I'm Still Here
by Emmithar
Summary: Robin’s life isn’t the only one that becomes endangered when an injury leaves him lost and confused. When the Sheriff of Nottingham uses this misfortune for his own gain can Robin’s men help him remember who he is before the unthinkable happens?
1. Chapter 1

**I'm Still Here**

**By: **Emmithar

**Rating: **T

**Disclaimer: **I do not own any recognizable characters or places. I am borrowing them with hopes of returning them in a similar condition when I am done.

**Summary: **Robin's life isn't the only one that becomes endangered when an injury leaves him struggling to remember what happened. When the Sheriff of Nottingham uses Robin's misfortune for his own gain can Robin's men help him remember who he is before the unthinkable happens?

**A/N: **Yes, I'm back! This is the third story in a series and will be updated as I can get to it. I hope I still have some readers left out there and of course, as always, welcome new ones to the group. :)

**Thanks goes out to _Kegel_ for reading through his mess and helping fix it up!**

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**Chapter One: A Meeting**

It was all a blur of motion; his movements not separate, but altogether as one, the inability to tell where one move ended and the other began. It was an exhilarating feeling, the weight of the sword in his hand, the favoring of this weapon over his trusted bow for such close quarter contact. Inside his chest his heart was pounding, his blood racing through his veins as he blocked blow for blow, dealing in his own strike from time to time, a deadly game of cat and mouse.

Time had passed since he had last felt like this; the rush of adrenaline taking him back to the nights in Acre, the feeling of war and blood dancing on his fingertips, the taste on his lips as he pushed forward. He had been hanging back until now, and without the slightest indication his movement changed. He became unstoppable, reaching the edge of the balance between keeping himself restrained, and losing himself completely. Though nearly there he held himself back, registering by the shock on the other man's face that this battle would not last much longer.

Hard, heavy breaths filled the air as the fight continued, one man easily outdoing the other now, taunting and teasing, giving in just enough to encourage him to strike again only to counter it and deal his own. It was time now, the fight had gone on for too long, it was time to finish before things got out of hand. Even the most skilled of men could do themselves in by one fatal flaw, and it was a known tactic to strike your opponent whilst you still had the chance.

The movements were quicker now, a blaze, a fury, pushing and forcing the opposite back. The other hardly had time to cover himself, forgetting his surroundings, eyes focused on his hands. In the process his footwork was forgotten, sending him stumbling. That was all that was needed, the leader in the battle using the distraction to knock the other man to his back, bringing the sword down for one fatal blow.

But it never came. The tip of the blade rested inches above the man's throat, just below his chin, the heavy gasping breaths emitting from his throat matching the man's from above. For a long moment they stared at one another, then Robin moved, backing a step away as he lowered his sword.

Beneath him, Will let out a sigh, even though he knew he had been in no real danger. It was there on the ground he stayed, waiting in hopes to catch the air that evaded his lungs after such a spar. "I thought…you said…you were going to go…easy."

He had said that, Robin could remember it clearly, but somewhere in the match he had forgotten it, having been consumed by the battle. It was an intoxicating feeling, as much as a nerve-wracking one. The simple fact that he could be consumed so easily by something that was so distasteful. Robin had thought he had left all desire for bloodshed and war behind, but the simple truth was that he still craved it from time to time. It was as if it was an addictive sensation, something he not only wanted, but needed.

"Well, I lied," he answered, sheathing his sword as he offered a hand to help the man up. Will took it without question, balancing his weight carefully, but even so Robin could feel the lag in his step. "Are you hurt?"

"No," Will shook his head, retrieving his fallen blade from the dirt below. "Just sore, I will be well."

It had been over a month now; Djaq had tended to Will's wound nearly every night until the man was able to take over for himself. In the meantime the rest of the gang had stayed to the forest, only Robin venturing out from time to time to see to the villages. Much, Allan and John had taken to hunting, fletching arrows, and building new traps under Will's instruction. Some had already proven useful, others had left Robin skeptical but he did not question them out loud. He was confident that it would work in the end, but he could also remember his promise to be more attentive and listen to what was being said. For now, it was working.

Though there had been minor disagreements between the men it wasn't anywhere near what they had experienced before. It was a promising sign; Robin did not want to face that issue again, but he had to take care or else risk doing so despite his wants. The first few days after they had all come back together had been the hardest. There was an awkward air to the surroundings, and it made things uncomfortable at best. But quiet talks and gentle reasonings had seen their way through and made everyone at ease.

Almost everyone, that was. As the days went on Robin could feel the restlessness build up inside of him. Treks through the forest to help with hunting, and even trips to the village had only temporarily quenched his agitation, and before long he was yearning for more. As a noble his life had been filled with endless tasks and responsibilities from day to day, and war had provided him with much of the same atmosphere. In his return he once again had found himself busy with matters with the Sheriff, divulging with the poor and their own misfortunes.

That had been difficult in the recent times. Robin could not risk Will's safety and bring him out in the open, but leaving him behind alone was not clever either. This shortened the group in size, and though they had already proven capability in small numbers, it was not a risk Robin wanted to take unless he had to. He was eager now to return to their complex yet simple life, and knew that the time would be soon enough. In the meantime, it had been he who had suggested the sparring.

It helped; not just him but the others as well. Robin was not as decent with his sword as he was with his bow and used this chance to help better himself. It also helped release the building tension, taming the eagerness inside of him. Robin let out a few more breaths, hands resting on his hips as the pounding inside his chest died down to dull beat.

Around him the others were milling about in languid activities despite the recent spar between the pair, and Robin watched them, going from one to the next, scrutinizing all of them. Another breath, and he pulled his sword free, twirling it in his hand. "Who wants to go next?"

Silence was the only response he received aside from a few amused glances shot his way. He waited, willing one of them to take to his challenge, but as time passed it was apparent none were going to take to it. He let out a desperate sigh, "You can't tell me you're all afraid?"

"We're not stupid either," Allan reminded him, glancing up at him. He was resting easily against a tree, wrapped in a cloak and settled in preparation for what appeared to be a lengthy nap. Djaq only smiled in agreement, forcing Robin to turn to John then, but the man was already shaking his head in answer to the question. How could it be that all of his men would refuse such a contest?

Well, maybe it wasn't that difficult to guess why. He had sparred with them all before, and even before then they were quite aware of his talent. Robin's gaze drifted to where Much sat, his grin widening as the other man shook his head.

"Come on, I'll go easy."

"That's what you told me," Will reminded him, crossing his arms where he sat.

"Yes," Robin nodded, "But I mean it this time."

"No," Much shook his head, "I refuse to be humiliated."

"I'll use my weak hand."

"I've seen you use your weak hand, the answer is still no."

"Much…" he was pleading now. This was something he rarely did.

"If you're that desperate, why don't you go find some other poor unsuspecting soul to fight with?"

The statement caused him to grin, thinking over what the other man had said. Not necessarily to stir up trouble, but it had been days since their last visit to any of the villages, and a break, even to do mindless work, was a welcoming factor to Robin. He could already see Much tensing, the man shaking his head.

"Master…surely…"

"Well? Are you coming?"

"No…I wasn't serious," Much defended himself.

Robin shrugged, sheathing his sword once more as he turned and left. He had made these trips by himself often enough, so it wasn't a great loss in his opinion. He had taken no fewer than a dozen steps when Much was calling out after him, the man scrambling out of his bed roll and grabbing his belongings as he raced to catch up.

"I thought you weren't coming."

"We don't have to go," Much agreed, "we could stay here and…and spar, yeah. You'd like that, you would."

"Too bad no one wanted to spar with me, I probably would have stayed."

"Alright, fine then. We'll spar."

Robin shook his head, spouting a frown as he continued his pace. "I don't want to spar anymore; I like your idea better."

"My idea?" the man laughed timidly, "You don't listen to any of my ideas…ever."

"Well, you do have some good ones, I might as well start," Robin shrugged.

"Why now?" Much was hurrying his stride just to keep up. It was a wonder for Robin, as to why the man complained so often about the various things that he did. If it bothered him enough, surely Much would have stayed behind. Robin wouldn't complain however; he enjoyed the company. Furthermore he knew exactly how to goad the man into following.

By nature Robin was a social person, and that alone seemed to be what he thrived off. Whether as a boy growing under his parent's watchful eye, a warrior in the crusades, or now, an outlaw in the forest, he craved the attentions from others. He enjoyed being held in high-esteem, but Robin liked to believe he did what he did solely because it was the moral thing.

Shifting his bow to his other side Robin took the path that led out to the north. It would take a good portion of the day traveling on foot, but they would reach Nottingham first scouting the rest of the villages on their return to camp, with hopes of reaching it by nightfall if they did not linger long.

The seasons were changing once again; warmer weather was bringing in more game and crops were starting to take in the soil that they were tended in. This meant more food for the villagers, more food for his men. In the end, more food for everyone which was a welcoming thought amongst his men. Food wasn't the only thing the warmth brought in though.

With it, it held the promise of gathering strength. Will was recovering effectively enough that the gang would soon be back on their feet with little hindrance. Robin was assured that the Sheriff had enjoyed their meager disappearance, and already the archer was coming to the conclusion of developing a plan to announce their reemergence from the wood.

Though he knew they should be subtle, Robin wanted something to provoke the Sheriff; a cause for the man to be ill at ease. After all, a frustrated man was someone who tended to make mistakes. Having the Sheriff believe they were always one step ahead gave Robin and his men more than just confidence. It allowed them the room, the time, and the air to breathe whilst completing any operation. Even for the ideas that were far fetched. Those, of course, had grown in number over the passing weeks while agitations grew.

Robin kept his gait at a steady pace, not quite a jog but easily showing that it was no idle forest walk either. Much kept up with his every step, interjecting a complaint into their intermittent conversation as they moved along. What they talked about was nothing out of the ordinary, conversing on topics such as the weather and how well the stores were holding up.

With the breech in secrecy due mostly to faults of all their own a new hold had been one of the first priorities structured during their time in hiding. It was not as large as the first had been, yet what it lacked in size was made up for in position. It was easier reached and better hidden; a keen factor in keeping it away from curious and prying eyes.

The outlaw's presence there was known to most if not all travelers, and many took care to avoid the forest path. But not everyone was fortunate to have the time to do so; merchants and noblemen alike had their duties, and furthermore had a time in which they had to be completed had they any hope of keeping them, their families and even their people content and secure.

That was the best time to move, the best time to strike. At times Much would question him; wondering how it aided anyone when the group took what little any man had for themselves. This was when Robin would have to remind him what they were fighting for, and why. Every little from a man who would willingly trade with the Sheriff meant possibly the world to those who were suffering from hunger and ill-oppression.

These very thoughts were drifting through his head as they approached the coming hill. Mainly it was because he had heard the movements before he saw them. Ever in warrior mode, Robin was immediately alert, motioning already for his companion to be silent.

The trees here grew in a jagged circle amidst the valley that the forest path led into, neighboring close to one another that aided in abundant shelter and camouflage. The odd pattern led the forest into a brief opening which Robin's men had bade the Tromperie, or the deception, since the abundant light that crept in through the opening made it seem as though one had reached the forest's edge.

It was here that most travelers let their guard down; the clearing was wide and open; a perfect area for camping if it weren't for such thieves in the forest. And for those who were not used to traveling the forest a steady calm washed over them until they realized they were still in the clutches of the trees. This had been where Will had set up one of his traps; in all actuality it had taken most of the group to devise, but the idea alone had been his.

Through the night they had spent digging a trench that was then refilled with the loose dirt, mixed heavily with an ample amount of water to create a thick goop-like mixture that was impossible to move around or jump across unless one went clear off the path and into thick undergrowth. Several times a week Robin and men would return, add water and mix the trench to keep the ground soft; even more so when a wagon or cart passed through the area. The trench in return would often slow and even stop many travelers.

Horses and carts became stuck in the mud, delaying progress at times for several hours even more towards a day if they were lucky. This gave Robin and his men time to maneuver into position for an ambush or attack. Friends and those fortunate to discover for themselves often took an alternate route around the clearing. It was a narrower road that was uneven at best and treacherous during the wet season at worst. Not only that, but it would often add another day to the travel through the forest. That was time that many noblemen did not want to waste. As it was apparent now.

From above Robin could see the lone traveler tending to his steed. Cursed voices filled the air as the figure knelt, hastily wiping the animals legs as the beast danced nervously, still shaken by the obvious struggle to free itself earlier. He was a fine animal, most certainly a thoroughbred by the looks, with a silky satin coat dark as chestnut itself. A fine saddle of leather adorned his back and was laden with plump saddlebags that were nearly overflowing.

Whoever this traveler might be it was apparent he was of noble blood in the least. No merchant or simple man traveled with such a burden or such fine of a beast. By his dress alone Robin could not tell if he was of higher importance. The traveling garb was normal for most of anyone, built for the cold but easily removed if the heat became too much, fit in such a way that it would not hinder with riding.

"He must have traveled from a ways," Robin whispered as he crept forward, keeping near the ground so that the trees might hide his movements in the case that a wandering eye glanced his way. It would be a shame to alert their newly found friend to know of their presence before they were ready.

"You think he is of royal blood?"

Robin was quick in shaking his head. "No royal would travel alone, not through a forest prominent for thievery. A noble is more of the likes. Hard headed enough to believe he can cross without harm and most certain he can fend off any threat if it should come. He's foolish enough to parade his satchels of goods to the wandering eye, however."

"I have never seen a single man carry that much on person," Much confessed.

"If he came from a distance then it would require him to bring a number of provisions. Even more so if he planned to remain at his destination for a time; more in likely that will be in our favor," Robin answered with a smile, moving along once more.

"Master…you don't mean…where are you going?"

Robin hushed him quick as he turned sharply on a heel. Loud voices were not something he wanted to promote, still wishing to obtain the element of surprise. They still had to trek around the cliff and down the side on a level path before they faced off with this stranger. The less notice that was given to him only worked in their favor.

"What about the others?" Much hissed as he drew near. "There are only two of us."

"And only one of him," he pointed out. "No visible weaponry on his steed or side. If he has any weapons they will be small. Hardly a threat; his horse is too worn and shaken to depart so neither will the man flee. He will not abandon his possessions. Although he may find very soon that he will change his mind."

Robin did not wait for his companion to reply. Instead he slung his bow off his shoulder, pulling free an arrow and readying it. The rest of his movements were just as fluid; quiet and quick steps that followed a foot trial left by him and his men that cut through the undergrowth and moved easily around the trees and fallen logs from the winter storms.

The strange fellow was still crouched near the ground, hoisting one of the horse's legs in one hand, a tool in the other that dug sharply at the mud that still clotted heavily between the shoe and hoof. It wasn't until Robin was nearly on him that the man knew he even had company.

Nothing was said; only the leg was dropped, the tool discarded as well as the man rose to his feet. There was nothing unique about him. Flawless features left to assume he had yet to see any battle including a simple fist fight. His hair was cut short, hugging the sides of his head and his beard shaven back but still there, covered with flecks of mud and forest from the fall he must have taken earlier.

His gaze studied first Robin and the arrow that was aimed his way before turning to Much and doing the same. While most men would be stuttering over their words pleading for a safe escape with all their goods this man was relatively calm. In fact he even presented a small sneer before retrieving the earlier discarded tool and tucking it back into his belt.

"Whatever it is, you best be done with it," he told them gruffly. "I am a busy man and I have other affairs to attend than a highway robbery."

"We would like to rid you of some of your burden," Robin announced happily. Willing occupations always made the day worth it. Less hassle and more time spent dividing the plunder. It was better in the end, even if it meant that he had to miss out on an adrenaline-charged conflict.

"While I thank you for your kind offer, I assure you that none of it is a burden. Now be off, unless you have come to see to this filthy mud trap behind us."

"Charming," Robin responded, "But the choice is yours. Either relinquish one-tenth of your hold and we will allow you to continue on your way with the rest of your provisions. Refuse, or lie about your possessions, and we will take it all…horse included. Trust me my friend; the Forest Sherwood is not kind to beggarly travelers."

"And is that all you take?" the man wondered, eyeing him cautiously. "Why is that, when you can have the entire lot? Surely you can fight, for you would not boast about it otherwise. It would be a foolish thing to do, and you seem like no fool."

"And you tire me with your words. What choice is it to be?"

"A tenth of my holdings will not hinder me in any way," the man responded, moving near his horse. He was already unfastening the saddle bag, prompting Robin to draw nearer. Much still stood behind him, arrow ready to fly should anything uncanny happen.

"A satchel of coins, a bit more than a tenth. That should satisfy your appetite and leave me in peace," the man heaved the small bag towards Robin, the archer releasing his defensive posture to capture the bag in mid-air. Obtaining it was the easy part, seeing to it that the man was not lying was always a bit more tricky, yet Robin always loved a challenge.

Maybe it was because it was too easy; it had been a long while since Robin had dealt with such matters, and certainly on his own. Later he would curse himself for his gullibility. No fine nobleman would give into such nonsensical demands without any question. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew that. Why it failed to come to light was a question beyond his ability.

It was Much who called out the first warning. Robin had barely any time to react, but the mere second was enough, the blade sailing through open air. The dagger was no more than a few inches in length, but at such close range it could be deadly if its mark was met. The sudden movement left Robin in an odd position, tangled over his own legs and struggling to get his bow up and ready, the satchel of coins spilling to the ground forgotten.

The arrow cut through the air, harmless in nature as the man ducked from its course. He came up instead, swinging both dagger and fist at the unsuspecting archer. Robin was forced to use both his bow and his wits, but even both was not enough as he found himself on the ground, his jaw stinging from the aimed blow by a heavy fist.

Any further blows were ended, Much now in the fray, favoring his sword over bow to drive the man back, earning a few precious seconds for Robin to recover. The man wasted no time, discarding his bow and pulling up his sword to join his companion.

Two against one, with one being so outnumbered not only in person but weaponry as well, one would think the fight easily won. But this man, curse whoever he was, was more than just a noble. Even Robin, where fighting had been introduced in his blood at a young age, could not match this man. His deadly accuracy with such a small blade left Robin thankful that was all he had.

Much was having a more difficult time keeping up, the quickness of their foe draining him shortly. It was all Robin could do to distract the stranger and keep his attention while Much regained his footing, the man doing the same for Robin in return. This was not a fight for them…the realization hitting the archer shortly after it had begun.

Tracking the man's movements, Robin feigned moving right, dropping down to one knee as the other moved. A quick thrust with the butt of his sword connected with the side of the man, forcing him to stumble. It was only but a second, but a second was all that was needed.

"Fall back," he yelled, retrieving his bow from the forest floor, sword still in one hand as he hastened towards the safety of the trees. Much was nearly on his heels, the man's heavy breath wheezing amongst Robin's own. The only times that he dared take his eyes off the jumbled path before them was to see if they were being followed. Therefore, it was a mighty great relief to discover they were not.

Even still Robin continued to run, slowing only when his companion began to falter. Heavy breaths ensued him, Much doubled over in pain as he gasped for air, sweat running down his brow. Air was something he could use as well. His chest ached, twisting into a knot as his lungs screamed for the simplest of breaths.

Robin wanted to convince himself that this was so simply because it had been so long since they had been in a real fight. Sparing gave them practice, but never the sort needed for a real battle. That was what he wanted to believe, yet the truth was not that. The man was skilled, a skill beyond that of which Robin or any of his men contained. He had not been pushed to such a brink before and the thought worried him.

"Wh…who was…that man?"

Much had resided to leaning against a tree, as if fearing he could not support his own weight. Robin was still holding his own, but not as well as he would have wished. In answer to the question he could only shake his head.

"I was mistaken…noble or not…he's a soldier."

"No o…one in the war…fought li…like that."

"No," Robin agreed, reaching up to rub his jaw where he had been hit. Already a bruise was forming and it was tender to the touch. "We would have…remembered. Someone like that…would have been in the King's Guard."

"We didn't…even get the…coins," Much wheezed, an edge of whining coating his voice.

"Forget the coins," Robin scolded him lightly. "A man like that…on his way to Nottingham…it can only mean trouble. If not for us, then most certainly for others. Come, we need to return to camp, and quickly."

**TBC**


	2. Stranger Among Friends

**Thanks goes out to _Kegel _who stayed up late to beta this for me; that means I can post earlier so all be nice and thank her for her patience and kindness :P**

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**Chapter Two: Stranger Among Friends**

Returning to camp had been easier than first anticipated. Robin had kept up a fair pace through the woods once they both had recovered their breath from the earlier encounter. That, added in the fact that they hadn't gone as far as originally planned, had aided them in a speedy return. While it was his wish to check among the townsfolk, and perhaps even cast a spying eye on the Sheriff, it was not wholly important at the moment; finding out who the stranger they had come across in the Tromperie was.

In his mind Robin was already forming a plan, throwing together jumbled thoughts that would hardly count for any sort of idea. It consisted of no more than of leaving a couple men behind and taking the rest to follow and track at a safe distance. Those being left behind would include Will; Robin still did not trust him fully to be steady on his feet. If worse came to worse he doubted he would be able to give the man ample protection. Though he deemed this important enough, Robin would not risk losing his comrade again.

Will would argue; that was for certain. The foul, bitter taste returned to Robin's mouth. Before it would have been easy to simply dismiss the argument, to proclaim his ways and ensure that his commands were followed. Yet in recent past that hadn't happened all the way Robin wished that it would. Others had suffered for it in the end. He could not take that path again, but neither could he lie in order to coax the man into false agreement. Will would have to hear the truth and Robin would have to hope the man was adamant enough to see his reasoning, and agree to stay behind.

He was in the midst of conjuring a solid argument when the sound of his name brought him from his thoughts. They had occupied him well enough that Robin had failed to see when they were nearing the camp, but it was a relief to know that they were close. It was Will who stood at the crest of the hill, his gaze shifting between the approaching pair and the camp that rested behind him. That was what first drew wonderment within Robin.

"Travelers, up the road," Will called out to them even before they had started the climb. "They fell into one of the traps."

"They're not the only ones," Much muttered gruffly, speaking for the first time since the encounter. Normally the quietness of his companion would have worried Robin, yet instead the archer had been thankful for the given time to think.

"Whatever it is, I fear it will have to wait," he expressed. "We have more important matters to be concerned with at the moment. Where are the others?"

"Back at camp," Will answered with a nod. "We took the travelers with us since you were not here. John figured you want to see them."

It was as though Will was first speaking madness. Robin was unable to wrap his mind around the words that flowed from the other's mouth. Much was just as quiet as he, and only then was Robin able to shake off the silent spell. "What?"

Strange as it was Robin was unsure as to why he had asked the question in the first place. Mostly because the archer did not wait for a reply. Instead he moved forward, a new strength blossoming in his soul as he trekked upward, leaving the other two behind.

It had been months since Robin and his men had brought anyone to their camp, and that choice had been Robin's alone despite the protest from the others. It had been a decision he had nearly regretted in the end. So the worry was with him as he reached the top of the hill. There was no telling who the travelers might be, or who they swore allegiance to. Bloodshed was a fickle thing, and Robin was against an unnecessary slaughter, but neither could he allow a complete stranger free to wander to the Sheriff. All their lives depended on it.

Yet whatever thoughts and worries he held soon disappeared, folding and crumbling over one another as the wax on burning candle would, leaving their milky puddle resting inside of him as he fought for not only breath, but words as well.

Will, even with his uneven limp, had been able to follow close enough after the archer's outburst. Coming to a stop near his side he let out a smile, clapping the other man on the back as he spoke.

"I told you that you would wish to see them."

Robin himself was unsure if he had even heard the words. He was gathering together his thoughts, trying to form something, if anything to say as he watched her before him. She was just as he remembered, bright in spirits and fair in feature, and still even in his deepest dreams he had never believed he would see her again. It was then her name worked its way to his lips, the word stuttering out without thought, coated in feeling.

"Marian?"

Till then she had been seated on a bed roll that covered the forest floor, conversing with Djaq as the woman tended the burning fire and the midday meal. Dressed in light blue riding outfit she rested easily and comfortable, her dark brown curls residing about her face, bouncing as she laughed to a jest that must have been said. At his voice however, she turned, a smile creasing her face as she grew calm.

Everything then was speculative as he approached in an awkward gait, wanting to fly to her side and yet somehow restraining his steps due to the uncertainty of how she would receive him. By the time he had reached her side, Marian had moved to her feet, regarding him quietly.

He was lost, not only in voice, but motion as well, wanting no more than to hold her close. Yet it had been so long, they had gone their separate ways. Marian was no more to claim as his own as she had been upon his return from the Holy Lands. And the awkwardness didn't end there, for she was just as silent as he, matching his questioning glare with a silent one of her own.

Robin was about to move, about to speak whatever foolish words that would force their way out when another voice cut through him.

"Kiss her and be done with it," Djaq mocked tauntingly, pulling the fresh meat from the fire. "Unless you want to stand there all night."

It drew from him a scoff, but at the least it broke the uneasy feeling that was building up between them. He drew Marian into a hug, relieved when she didn't refuse his advances, instead embracing him with a warm and secure hold. It brought him back to a time when there was still peace, to when her father was the Sheriff; the smell of her hair, the feel of her body; it gave him confidence when he felt like he had none. It was time he found himself wishing for more and more as the days wore on. Those chances were long gone, faded into memory like all that was around it.

"Your camp, might I say, is clever," Marian spoke as she withdrew from his hold. Robin allowed her to do so reluctantly, clearing his throat before replying.

"It was Will's craft," he nodded to the man as Will took his place near Djaq. "He's got a good hand, so I figured we should put it to use."

"My design," Will shrugged indifferently, "but everyone helped."

True that it had happened as such, but it had been under Will's direction. Something that wouldn't have been completed if it were not for his quick mind in architectural structures. Still it left him with a smile as Robin turned back to watch Marian, wondering in the midst of his mind what she all knew.

"How long have you been here?"

"An hour, perhaps more. One of our horses threw a shoe thanks to one of your…entrapments. Lyre is working to ready them as we speak."

"Lyre?" Robin raised an eyebrow at the mention of another traveler, glancing around her to where the man worked without so much as a glance their way. "A new friend?"

Robin knew he could not expect Marian to remain alone, even more so that she had gone off to another settlement out of the grasp of Gisborne and the Sheriff, but even then he could not shake off the harrowing jealously that was growing inside of him. He had always envisioned a life that the two of them would one day share; another man in the picture crumbled that sweet vision into little more than rubble.

"He is an escort…it is not safe to travel through these words; outlaws, you know."

"You trust him with your life?"

"Of course," she answered quickly, a frown spreading across her face.

"And ours as well? What price are you offering him for his silence?" Robin sneered, more irate than he wanted to admit to being.

"He is a mute," she reassured him. "He cannot speak any treachery. You have nothing to fear."

"A mute can still find a way to communicate," Robin pointed out as he drew her to one side. He lowered his voice, most of his early envy gone now that he did not perceive the man to be a threat towards Marian. "You may trust him, but I do not know who he is."

"Then trust me," she responded coldly, pulling free. "Do you really think that I am that naïve? I hid behind the Night Watchman's mask for years. I know when it is wise to speak up and when to hold my tongue."

"Yet you pressed your luck more than once. That was why you were forced into agreement with Gisborne; that was why you almost died that night. Or have you forgotten?"

"I have not." Her voice was cold, icy almost as she let out a sigh. "We've all made our mistakes; can you say that you are guilt-free yourself?"

Robin knew that answer even before he spoke it. Guilt rested him from the wars, as well as the decisions he had made that influenced others. Still it was frustrating when he witnessed it from others, especially from the likes of Marian who he wanted no more than to protect. But protection was not something she was looking for, nor was it something she desired.

His response of silence resulted in another heavy breath from her. "It has been long since we last spent time with one another; let it not be like this."

"Food is ready," Djaq agreed, having kept silent throughout their heated exchange. "We all will be better after we've eaten."

True that the hunger was pressing at him, reminding him that he should eat. In its place, worry and frustration had also entered. Eating would be near impossible, but still he took the plate that was passed to him as Marian moved on. A few bites of the tender meat and he moved to join her, seating himself on the forest floor after removing his weapons.

"Not quite fit for a lady, but it will have to do," he offered her the wooden cup that Djaq had passed to him. It was notched in several places, chipped in others, and the wine that it held was weak in quality, but in the very least it washed the palate clean. She took it without question, inviting her escort over to join much to Robin's dismay.

"What business do you have traveling through Sherwood at all?"

He wanted more than anything to believe that she had ventured this way only to visit, but he knew that was a thought that resided only in his delusions. There were still friends that she had amongst the town folk, he knew, but even then it was hard to believe that was the reasoning behind her return.

"I am on my way to return to Nottingham, actually," she replied quietly, sipping the liquid from her cup.

"You speak foolishly," Robin was quick to chastise her. Out of all the places she could venture that was perhaps the worst, save for Locksley perhaps. "If Gisborne or the Sheriff sees you it will end with the tying of a knot; either marriage or the noose that will fit snugly around your neck."

"It is Gisborne who sends the invitation," she countered; it was as though she had expected his outburst in the first place. "He has sent several messages since my departure, and I grow weary of staying in hiding. This is my home; Knighton Hall is my home."

"Knighton Hall was burned to the ground."

"What?"

"Truthfully: by no one's hand but Gisborne's own." He was angry; irate was actually more like it. Marian had her freedom, a freedom she was willing to give up for something that was not even real. How long would it be before Gisborne had her backed into a wall once more with no manner of escape?

"I'm sure there was some reason behind it," Marian replied after a quiet moment. "A man does not just burn buildings in spite."

There was a reason; Robin knew this all too well, but it was not one he was willing to share with her. It was a moment of foolishness followed by weakness that had led to his own imprisonment and torture. Marian would only chastise him; that was if she even believed him. Why she held Guy of Gisborne in such high esteem was beyond his capacity of thinking.

"He took away your home, was willing to force you into a loveless marriage, and stabbed you…and yet you still play as his friend."

"It was those methods that helped us out before," Marian informed him. "Tell me now, what have you learnt if anything since I have left?"

What had he learned? The question cast confusion into him; he had learned what loneliness felt like, and learned about humiliation and weakness. He had met up with and escaped from harrowing death and dark cruelty that was beyond words. There was a lot he had learnt…but he knew that this was not what she was asking.

"So you would go to him? After all he has done…for what, may I ask? A childish fantasy? Marian…we are at the verge of war, fighting alongside the poor to overthrow those who would impose an unfair word and law. It is not a game."

"Then do not treat it as such," she scolded him. "Do not preach, Robin of Locksley, unless you follow the sermon yourself."

"This is madness." And it was; he was being scolded by the very one he was offering a wise word of protection to. The fact that she would not listen, rather instead rebuff him, sent a score of anger through him as he moved to his feet. "I will not listen to this."

"And so you will run away again. Why does it not surprise me?"

"Why doesn't it?" Robin wondered, but he would not stay to hear another moment. The way Marian could enlighten and anger him fluxed greatly, from one to another and often without warning. While he had missed her dearly throughout the times of their separation he was once again reminded why he could not stay with her.

* * *

Raw emotions still burned inside of him as he moved through the forest. For anyone else it would have been easy to shake off the words, yet for some unknown reason whenever Marion spoke, her words clung to him as did the feathers upon an arrow; refusing to let go even in the midst of a flight. It was bothersome, so much in the fact that Robin had left without any word to his men, had left behind his weapons as well as full-filling meal. Not that it mattered, for he doubted he could swallow food much less his pride.

He had no destination in his mind save for an escape. His trail led him back and forth amongst the road and into the trees where they grew dense, Robin switching his trek often in a random pattern to lose any of his men that may have taken chase. The last thing he desired was a solemn talk to set him straight, though Robin convinced himself it was what he most likely needed at the moment.

What truth there was to it was the fact that Marian was still returning to Nottingham despite his pleading. There was a pain that dwelt in his chest at the thought; the knowledge that Marian came not for him but for the man who would see her hang unless she agreed to marry him. The same man that not only wanted her rouge identity dead but that of all those who opposed the Sheriff and his ways.

He should have killed him; the thought was always with Robin if not now more than ever before. Guy of Gisborne had given him plenty of opportunity to do so before and yet every time that he had tried he found himself failed. Weak from war or heavy with the guilt instilled by Marian should he succeed, he would be the last person to tell.

Even if she knew, knew of all that Gisborne had done, would she still return? Robin did not know, but he would not use his shame to guilt her into staying. There was no good that could come from it; only more problems in the end, as well as the forfeit of Marian's life should Guy or Vaysey discover where her true loyalties were.

Yet every fiber inside of him screamed that it was no more than a trap. No doubt that Guy would still presume her as a fiancé, and what then, would happen, when she refused? Robin knew that he and his men would have to spring into action soon in order to keep a closer eye on the castle. Will would find himself back amongst the group sooner than Robin had originally planned, but Marian was too important to him to lose in such a manner of childish actions.

Still, there was a hope, however small, that Robin wanted to believe. Perhaps he could convince her to return from whence she came. Save them all the heartache and trouble that should follow. She would not…the realization stung more than he wanted. Marian was as strong-willed as she was stubborn; her own way was seen to be fit and the only one that could convince her otherwise was herself.

This was what he mused over as he walked. From time to time he came to a pause, hiding himself in the thicket or bushes, climbing low branch-bearing trees to scout and survey his location. There was no noise, no indication that he was being followed. Even still Robin knew he had taught his men well; they could follow silently as shadows and catch him unaware. Blast them for their worry; ever since that night of his disappearance.

Robin let out a sigh as he continued on. If they were following, then let them; as long as they did not bother him or trample on his thoughts he was fine with the matter. The notion did not last long, clearing away into another thought as he approached the Tromperie he and Much had been in earlier. Memory slammed into him as his steps faltered.

So caught up in Marian's arrival he had forgotten all about the stranger on the road. Not a single word had been spoken to his men who had been idling about the fire and sleeping lazily as the day had worn on. Marian's imprudent reasoning and outbursts had all but pushed the earlier encounter from his mind. Cursing himself now, Robin stood at the entrance caught between want and need. No doubt that the traveler had moved on; he would be a fool to do otherwise. Yet by the time Robin doubled back and gathered his men it would be well into the next day. By then he would have left the forest and any hope on tracing his journey would be lost.

They needed that information. For their own safety; a man that could fight like that was more than a danger. He was a potential death sentence. Crouching low, Robin searched with his hands upon the forest floor in the fading light of the day, finding an ample-sized branch hiding beneath the flaky soil. It was not much of a weapon, but should he find himself for need of one, it would have to do.

The Tromperie was barren, Robin moving through it with ease as he kept his senses alert and focused. There was no meaning on his part to encounter this fellow on his own, a promise that Robin made to himself as he crossed the last of the opening, sheltered once again by the trees. All he wished to know was the man's direction. Could he learn that, then tracking him the following day would be easier. The road itself was worn from previous travelers, making it hard enough to read as is. Any help at all would be welcomed.

It did not take long to find what he was seeking. The man must have made camp shortly after tending to his horse, the only wish must have been to find shelter. A fire flickered low in the depths beneath a grouping of trees, the horse munching on stray shoots before raising his head in the direction Robin was coming.

The archer was quick in ducking behind a tree. Robin had not meant to come so suddenly upon the camp. In truth he had not expected it at all. Very few travelers, if any at all, camped in these words. Talk of thievery and outlaws, of people being robbed blind had taken care of even the boldest of merchants. This was not the case for this man.

Perhaps it was because he truly had no fear, or maybe it was due to the fact he had already bested the outlaws once before, and believed he could do so again should the need call for it. Most likely he could, and the notion alone was enough to keep Robin away. Curiosity was a fickle thing however and it was not long before Robin was peering closer.

The man was wrapped in blankets upon the ground and about the fire. There was no movement from him, and above the noise of the crackling fire Robin could make out the steady breaths. He took his time, counting them, measuring them before convincing himself that the man was indeed asleep. How sound of a sleeper he was Robin was not certain.

Now would be the time to return to camp, to fetch his men, or at least hope and pray they had been wise enough to follow him. Drawing attention was not something Robin desired. He would have to retreat back to the woods and loose a signal. Yet he could not force himself to do so. Desire of wanting to know just who this man was, was winning quickly over caution and common sense.

Forgetting the promise he had made to himself earlier Robin slipped from behind the tree, keeping his stride slow and even. Each footfall was well placed, searching for a secure and quiet hold before moving on. The horse, strangely calm, only lifted his head to give the approacher a closer look before turning back to the meal before him.

The man, however, did not stir. Robin moved closer, hand out to calm the horse should it start, but the beast took hardly any notice of the newcomer, busying itself with other matters. One last look at the sleeping man and Robin began working to open the bags on the saddle.

At first there was not much there; stretches of leather and animal skin that bundled up bread and dried meat. Provisions for the road, as was the flask and extra blanket about the horses' saddle. Digging deeper turned up coins, some loose and rolling about the pouch whereas others were bundled in a small bag. Not enough to suggest a haughty lord or nobleman, but more than a peasant would carry for certain. A way to buy into an inn for the night seemed more likely.

One of the coins fell from Robin's hands and he moved down after it. Every bit did help, yet most of all Robin could not afford to leave any traces behind that someone had been there during the night. The man had to travel on his way in the morning so as to lead the others. Yet something about it was off; it was heavier than a single coin, and far too round…

Robin rolled the smooth metal in his hands, bringing it closer for examination. A strange shape it was, like a bird of prey that was proud and noble. It caused him to frown, turning the metal over in his hands again, as though he was unsure as if he had seen it for what it was. It would do well to take this, until he learned later of what it was. He slid the ring inside his pocket with the coins, moving up to close the saddle bags and make his departure. As he did, he cast a look back at the sleeping man, his fingers faltering in their task upon the discovery of the empty bed roll.

He was able to avoid the oncoming blow, falling to his knees before throwing himself at the man. Arms locked about the other's legs he toppled him over, regaining his own stance while working the dagger from the man's hand. It slid free into the dirt; due mostly to the surprise on the stranger's part, but the struggle did not end there.

A knee found its way into Robin's stomach, stealing away his breath and focus momentarily. Another blow the head pushed him off and before Robin could react the man had the dagger in his hand again. Moving against his body's advice Robin lunged forward, grabbing his earlier heavy branch and swinging it up. The blade of the knife caught in the wood and was pulled free from the man's grasp.

Determined to better his foe this time Robin was quick in bringing the branch back, pulling free the blade with a sharp twist. His attention would have been better served on focusing on his opponent. Armed or not the man was still moving to attack. The blow to his chin dazed him, Robin forgetting his hold on the branch. It was soon replaced by the stranger, the man dealing a sharp strike to his chest.

In a daze Robin found himself struggling to regain his feet, his body afire and his mind cursing his recklessness. All he could wonder was how he allowed the lapse in judgment, to forget watching the very man that could cause him danger. That was the last of his thoughts as well, Robin seeing the hefty branch come racing down upon his head, the sickening realization that he had naught enough time to escape the blow settled down in the pits of his stomach.

**TBC**


	3. Lost

**Thanks to all those who reviewed and to my beta Kegel for her work as well :)**

* * *

**Chapter Three: Lost**

With a clear mind he could think; but not now, not like this. Every muddled thought drifted together like the melting of snow into a river. Any conscious thought that he could grab a hold of would not stay and it left him utterly empty; it was a strange and forbidding feeling although he could not find the words to describe why. Even if he could, it was not what was on his mind. The fierce driving pain was…

Above him light and shadows amalgamated together into a murky existence, broken only by the throes of agony. Silent pain worked as an animal, festering upon the ache that proceeded to grow. It was so irregular and random that he could not even become accustomed to it, driving so hard that it threatened to steal away the very breath from his lungs.

He could feel himself moving, or so he thought, a musing he did not linger on for dire pain stole his attention once more. He pressed a hand against his heated flesh, feeling the warmth and stickiness that he could not describe, teeth gritting at the mere contact. Fingers wrapped about his own, pulling his hand away, words spoken that he could not hear or even decipher. It was a dream…no, a nightmare that had its hold about him. So real was it that he could have sworn it to be true, but something told him he could not endure this type of pain and still live. If he could only wake to the living world…

Again his motions were halted as he reached up. The expected contact never came and a flash of pain shot before his closed eyes as he turned away. Holding his breath seemed to help deal with the fierce ache, but he could only hold his breath for so long, even if it were a dream.

He let escape a whine of protest upon finding he still could not move. He wanted to hold his head, to wrap his arms about it in hopes to squeeze away all the pain. The voice he had heard earlier spoke again, stern and uneven, words he had heard before but now could no longer piece together. With swelling thoughts built over brewing pain he could not fight against it any longer. The darkness beckoned to him, a soft and inviting place in comparison with this cold and bitterly cruel atmosphere. It was then, and only then, that he felt safe within his surroundings.

* * *

There were many things in her life that she had naught any choice or control over. From where she was born to where she had gone; the trails and teachings she had faced and suffered through. Until recently all her choices were not her own. At times Djaq despised it all; her childhood had been bitter and bleak; the family she had upon birth failed to exist save for her memories. A thousand times over she had wished for different terms, for a life that she could have more say in how her outcome was. Yet this was not one of those times.

Now she was grateful for all that she had learned. Her fingers worked as briskly as her mind with little worry to blood and sweat that covered them. The only interruptions that came were from her, voice taunt and calling out orders for what she needed. There was more than enough help to be had, something that worked in her favor.

There was worry, she knew, for it hung thickly in the air, threatening to cloud her senses. She couldn't allow it; there was no time for her to fret over what could not be changed. Gently she dabbed the rag in the water, moving to clean out the wounds once more. He had taken harsh hits from both front and back, a hard enough blow that it had split the skin and perhaps even crushed some bone. That was the worrisome part.

It had been luck that Robin hadn't been killed. His sudden departure had been unexpected, prompting Allan and Little John to follow in hopes of persuading him to return. The others had remained behind, Djaq offering a word of support on Marian's behalf to the unsettled woman. Robin could be harsh with words at time, but behind them was a driving force of upmost care and concern. He simply worried for the lady, and there was little harm in that.

As difficult as it had been, Djaq and Will had managed to talk her into staying until the morning came. Marian was anxious to leave on the road, whether to be done with her travels or to avoid another outcome with Robin was unknown. But in the end she had agreed, settling down for the night in the bed Will had graciously sacrificed. Her slumber hadn't lasted long however.

John had been the first to alert them all. His robust voice had cut through the forest, the sound alone sending Will for his bow and rousing the others from their slumber. It had not been any attack, but a cry for help. Djaq had wasted little time then in taking charge, Much by her side helping to fetch supplies as she had begun her work. As she did, the story of what had happened had emerged.

"Why would he just run off?" Much questioned as Djaq finished tying off the last of the bandages. He had been jittery to say the least, interjecting short and sometimes vile thoughts and opinions as Allan described the strange man in the woods. "He nearly had us beat before, had Robin already…it doesn't sound like someone who would run."

"He couldn't have known how many of us there were," Allan shrugged indifferently, leaning against a tree. "Thought maybe an army was coming."

"Or maybe it was your face," Much scoffed, pacing back and forth. "That would scare anyone let alone him."

"It doesn't matter," Marian interrupted before Allan could even respond. "Robin's safe; he's going to be fine," she paused for a moment, drawing in a breath before turning to Djaq. "He will be alright?"

The Saracen nodded, rolling up the supplies she had within the dried animal skin. There they would be kept safe from the elements, and could even be buried if such lengths of measure were needed. Yet with the camp they now resided at it was hardly a problem. The entire fort could be easily hidden if any wayward travelers happened across it. Even still she tucked the bundle beneath her bedroll, moving to tend the fire that had been brought back to life.

"He should sleep for the night; in the morning he will feel like he has taken too much wine."

That was her hope anyway; the wounds were clean and free of infection for now, perhaps the only good that came from the man's choice of weapon. They were not deep, but one look could easily tell her that they would bring a lot of discomfort and pain as the days wore on. Cleaning them would also provide a chore; Robin was not the most abiding man when it came to festering wounds; this she had learned on her own.

Tensions were still high even though she had spoken her words. Djaq trusted her skill but even then there were times that she brought it into question. If the others were doing that now she could not blame them. Robin had shared bouts of illness and injury throughout the long seasons as much as they all did. This was different, the cold, bone-chilling reminder that what they had would not last forever. One day, somewhere and somehow things would turn in a different direction. For better or worse could not be said; even the most optimistic man would be a fool to believe all would end well.

It was this thought, the realization of their morality and where it stood in this unfair war that resided with them all for the remainder of the night. Some slept, but for most the state of restfulness evaded them, the rising of the sun bringing with them the hope of a new day. But there was no change to be seen in Robin. The man, covered now to chase away the chill, slept on.

Djaq was busying herself, tending to the bandages that were soaked crimson with blood, when Marian approached. The lady said nothing, the air about them silent as Djaq focused on her work, pulling away the soiled bandages and wiping clean the blood that crusted about the wounds. There was slight resistance on Robin's part, the quietest of moans filling the air, but that was all.

"You are leaving," Djaq finally brought herself to speak, knowing the other woman wanted to, but was for some reason faltering. Guilt perhaps, she reasoned. The man she claimed to have feelings for was injured, and her departure would take her to another man that had more than once tried to rid himself of the acute marksman. Not to mention Guy had also nearly taken Marian to her death as well. Maybe it was more than guilt, perhaps, Djaq thought, that it was also regret that brewed in her veins.

"I fear I cannot tarry any longer," she replied, her voice quiet in the early dawn. "I am expected at the latest by this morning. If I arrive any later than that, I fear Guy will send an array of men to find me. I would rather them not do so here."

"Robin will understand," Djaq nodded to her, looping fresh cloth about the man's head. "He will come see you, I am sure."

He would be bitter at first; but as a woman Djaq knew that distant look in his eyes that clouded his vision from time to time. Once he let go of his pride he would find a way to visit. She wound the last of the cloth, moving to tie it off only to drop the end as she tried.

Marian knelt near her, picking up the stray strand before Djaq could close her fingers about it. "Here, let me help."

"I would think one like you would not wish to dirty their hands and garments, what will you tell Gisborne?" she wondered as the blood stained the woman's fair hands. It had managed to cling to her sleeve as well, but Marian merely shrugged it off as she tied the last bit in a fine knot to keep it from coming undone.

"Travel is not always pleasant," she responded, watching Robin as the man slept. "Guy will understand. I will simply tell him it was from some game that Lyre fell."

She had a way with words with that man, or so Djaq felt. Such confidence in her manner, yet there was something missing from behind her eyes, as though she was watching on from a distant place. The impression vanished, however, as Marian put on a false pretense, rising to her feet.

"You will tell him?"

Djaq nodded, although she had a feeling Robin would garner for himself once he woke and recovered enough. "I am certain we will meet again," she bade the woman a safe journey, settling herself down in the front of the fire as lady and guide mounted and rode out.

Marian, no doubt, had a trial before her just in facing Gisborne after their last parting. For Djaq, things were very different, and she went about putting her knowledge into a concoction that would help Robin wake and calm his hurting head.

* * *

It was as though he was waking from a deep slumber, like the heavy weight that pulled at you upon the brink of exhaustion. His head swam, conjuring up muddled thoughts that held no real meaning. Something about it, however, kept him still, Robin counting his breaths to help ease away the pain that was rolling about his body. No doubt the worst of it was in his head, but he could feel a cold and nauseating sensation in his stomach that was disagreeing with him harshly.

Why the pain was there he could not remember. His thoughts rattled about his head as frequently as the pain did, serving only to confuse him more. The more he tried to grasp a reason the less anything made sense. Time and sensation were slipping away from him, forcing Robin to do the only thing his body knew at the moment, holding onto the pain despite the unwelcoming feeling. It told him he was alive, told him that what he was feeling was real. For a start, that was good enough.

Even as he embraced the pain, Robin put his mind to work. He had not moved since his departure from the dreamless sleep, sounds about him alerting him that he was not alone. In the presence of friends or foes he could not tell, but the real realization hit only moments later as he tried sorting the knowledge out. He didn't know. Did he even have friends? Or were there only foes?

He risked a glance, opening a single eye as he surveyed his surroundings. What he was looking for was unknown to him, his body reacting without any thought. It was as though he had done this before, like it was something he had been trained to do. Why he was being so careful he could not explain; that knowledge was lost to him as well. His mind was empty, memory evading him as he searched desperately for anything. But the only recollection he could find were watery visions filled mostly with pain.

It was all the more reason to listen and obey to his whims. The man with no recollection of his former life was slowly giving way to panic, but a strange calm then enveloped him, a voice whispering that fear served no purpose other than to be wary. He knew the voice, knew that the words had once been spoken by a friend. He had friends…but whom and where…that he could not tell. It was as comforting as it was disheartening. Would he recognize them if he saw them, or were they only wishful fantasies his mind had desperately conjured?

Robin took another breath, allowing for the sharp throbbing pain to pass before surveying his surrounds once more. What he saw was little more than a constant blur. The warmth of a fire not too far off cast a glow about his face, obscuring his vision. Robin recognized that he must be in some sort of establishment, something, what was the word? A camp, yes…but whose camp? Surely not his, he didn't have a camp…did he?

He let out a silent groan, closing his eyes as the thought washed over him. There was so much he didn't know, so much it was to the point he didn't know what he knew. A mass of confusion in one jumbled mess. There were others about him, and he could ask for sure…but the very thought stilled him, a cold and sickly feeling seizing his insides. It left him vulnerable, and rightly so. If he could not even tell himself who he was, what good did it do to trust another? How would he know if what he was told was the truth or a lie? He had to know, had to find out…

Robin knew that the decision had been made. It was himself alone that he could trust for sure. He could follow his own whims for as long as he needed until he sorted out this confusion. The idea of being in stranger's hands while so vulnerable was unnerving at best. The only difficulty that remained was slipping away unseen, but something inside encouraged his feeble belief that the task at hand was simpler than it seemed.

* * *

"I can't believe you just let her go," Much spoke bitterly, shoving together the rolls of bedding that had been used the night before. He had allowed himself to sleep in, something that both angered and surprised him. He would like to tell himself it was because he had been weary; but it would not be so much of a truth. The passing weeks had left him…indolent; the idea of a passing life that did not involve skirting through the woods or fleeing the hangman's noose on a daily basis was more than welcoming.

Even so, Much had bedded down the night before with an earnest promise of rising early. Anxiety had made it difficult to even think about rest, but Djaq had convinced him that Robin would not wake until the morning. He trusted the Saracen well enough to heed her words and had allowed himself to succumb to his weariness, exhaustion caused by both the encounter with the stranger in the forest and the worry for his friend and former master.

He realized now that it would have been better if he had not slept at all. Marian was gone when he rose, and Robin still silent where he had been left the night before. No doubt the man would be angry and hurt when he awoke to find that Marian had left without as much as saying goodbye. Even worse she had gone to the castle; to the very man she had promised to wed. The notion last time had been enough to change Robin into a different man. There was no telling now how he would react. Much did not want to risk losing his friend once again.

"She was not a prisoner," Djaq told him quietly. It left him with a frown. He knew that, but he also considered that Marian would willingly have stayed behind if someone had reasoned with her. Instead they had let her go.

"What will Robin say when he wakes?" Much demanded, sitting down in a huff as he crossed his arms. "He will be angry we did not follow her."

"Why don't you go follow her?" Allan wondered mildly as he pulled on his quiver. He stood far at the other side of the camp, waiting near John as the other man prepared himself as well.

"Where are you going?"

Much half dared they were going to follow her, so in that he may join as well. The man was not willing to risk his neck for something that did not need to be done, but if the others were going he would accompany them to save himself from being labeled as a coward.

"Hunting."

It was his only response and it drew a scoff from Much. How could they think of food at a time like this? Although some fresh bread and warm meat did sound enticing, perhaps if it was covered in a bit of cheese…true enough he was hungry, but he shook his head vigorously to clear the images from his mind. They had to think, had to plan; something other than a delicious feast, that was.

"I'll come," Will broke his thoughts, the younger man moving to his feet as he gathered up his bow.

"Robin doesn't want you out hunting," Allan was quick to remind him.

"Robin won't know."

Much watched as they all took turns checking on the sleeping form across the camp. True enough there was no indication that the man had even heard and rightly so. It caused bewilderment in Much, wondering how the others could go against the wishes of his master only because they felt they could get away with it.

"Shame on you," he voiced his opinion, glaring at all of them. "Just because Robin isn't here…well he is here, but that's not the point. The point is that you will be disobeying him…again."

"He's right," Allan agreed, earning surprise from the other man. "We did that once, and not being funny, but I don't want him waking and finding you gone."

"I can hunt," Will told him coarsely, "Robin may think otherwise, but I know my limits. Let me come, let me prove to him that I am well enough to do so. The decision is my own and Robin will not blame any of you because of it."

John whispered something that was missed by Much, both Allan and John conversing quietly. He saw Allan nod, stirring curiosity inside of him. Were they really going to let the other man come despite Robin's wishes? This was madness!

"Alright," Allan nodded towards him. "You can come if you can keep up."

Simple and disgusting. Much shook his head as he frowned, watching the change in Will as the man turned to retrieve his quiver. It was interesting to see how such a trivial thing lifted the man's spirits. Yet as soon as he turned back around his jovial mood was destroyed. Allan and John had quickly left the area, leaving no trace to which direction they had gone; a stunt similar to what a group of young boys would do.

Disgusted Will threw aside his bow and arrows, seating himself back down where he had been but moments ago. Continual frustration could be seen building up in the man and for a moment Much felt a twinge of empathy for him despite the fact that he was grateful he was not going after all.

"Don't worry," he tried to counsel the man, "They've done that to me before."

"That's you," Will informed him bitterly, "You've scared off enough game before."

"Me?" Much asked incredulously. Sure there were times he had, that he could not deny, but his hunting had improved for the most part. Another truth was that he brought in mostly conies, supple for a quick meal but never really a feast. They were easier to gain ground on than on a deer, and easier to carry back.

"You are still healing, Will Scarlet," Djaq broke in before he could respond. "Robin only wants you well."

"How will I ever get the chance if he does not allow me to try?"

"Patience," she answered with a smile, the same smile that seemed to ease him. Much left out a huff as he shook his head. Already it felt as though there was not enough room to breathe and between the two of them things were becoming even more claustrophobic.

"At any rate you should trust Robin," Much told them, intervening between the quietly shared moment. "Without him you'd be dead."

"No need to remind me. I know already…I just want to do more."

They all did; Much knew the feeling all to well. He wanted the peacefulness he had sought after while away at war. The same peace that had evaded Nottingham and the surrounding shires for the passing years. Much would give anything to live free, Master of Bonchurch and follow in Robin's gracious rule. He wanted people that would love and uphold him and his deeds. That would have to wait for a later time, Much knew. There were other problems afoot and the Sheriff would not cease whatever plans he had because of a few measly outlaws.

They needed the king; Nottingham needed the king. The man Robin had fought for and saved his life; the favor would be returned, they would be pardoned. Robin was almost like a son to King Richard; more than once Much had witnessed the interaction between the two, the bond that flourished between them, the amount of trust and good faith each shared for the other.

Much glanced to where his master lay, wondering if perhaps they shared a similar bond. He imagined they did, but at time Robin was so distant from him it was hard to tell. His thought faltered, however, spying the empty bedroll.

Quickly his gaze cast about the camp, searching to see where the man had gone. How was it he had taken to his feet without any of them noticing? Yet the camp itself was barren save for their belongings. Will and Djaq were conversing by the fire, still obviously oblivious to the new situation that had just unfolded.

"Robin's gone," Much was already on his feet, searching the surrounding area.

"He couldn't have gone far," Djaq reassured him. She too was on her feet, but the calmness in her demeanor was unlike anything that had captured Much.

"My bow is gone." Will's voice was a mixture of confusion and worry, and it only drew more concern from the small party that resided in the clearing. Much found himself swallowing, concern rising inside of him. There were many places the man could have gone, the castle in Nottingham springing to mind first and foremost. Going to fetch Marian by himself was reckless enough, but to do so with an injury was even more alarming.

"Spread out," Djaq nodded towards them. "We'll find him."

**TBC**


	4. Figuring It Out

**Sorry for the wait, I've been busy with work and the holidays and all that fun stuff. Long chapter to make up for it. **

**Many thanks to Kegel for the beta :)**

* * *

**Chapter Four: Figuring It Out**

He ran. Inside his chest burned as though it was on fire, his vision swimming and wavering as the pain came in bursts inside his head. Even still his feet tread expertly on the asperous ground, following a path that even the eye could not see. Only twice had he fallen, but the man with no recollection of who he once was had picked himself up shortly after, pressing ever onwards.

Where he was going, he had no idea. How could anyone have a set destination in mind when every thought eluded you, leaving you alone in a darkness that could not even be matched on nights where the moon refused to show her face?

To his chest he clutched a simple bow, a handful of arrows, perhaps the only thing that could save him should anyone be following. He would remember them, he was certain, if he had once known them. His mind was reaching, searching for any explanation. Perhaps he had been traveling through the forest, intent of arriving to whatever destination he had planned. Then he was attacked...that was not so much a question as it was an answer. The throbbing ache in his head as well as the dried blood beneath the bandage saw to that.

Yet why would they tend to wounds brought on by them? Guilt, perhaps; he could think of no other reason. Carrying no provisions, not even a purse, led him to believe he had been robbed. Let them have the money; let them have any goods he once possessed. At the moment, the man valued his life more than any meaningless trinket.

The man ran a few more lengths, coming to an awkward halt as his legs tangled in some thick brush. The dirt below was soft beneath his hands, but one of the arrows broke in half with a sickening crack, causing him to wince in pain at the thought of his own wound. While he was not broken in half it felt as though his skull would fall to pieces at any given moment. Here he allowed himself to rest, his breaths coming in short cycles, his eyes falling slowly closed as he leaned up against a tree. A short rest would do him no ill…it would give him time to think.

But while there were many thoughts and bits of memory, it was as if he was seeing them from afar, from a different dimension, none of them made sense, none of them were coherent enough for him to understand. He knew that he was hurt…perhaps gravely; he knew he should be wary of others…though he couldn't explain why. He also knew that he could fight…but he couldn't explain how.

What he didn't know was that he was of noble blood…he could not tell anyone let alone himself that he was Robin of Locksley, a King's Warrior who returned from the Holy Land a changed man, a man who was fighting for others as much as for himself. What he didn't know was that the pain in his heart was due to a longing for something and someone he could never have. What he didn't know was that there was someone out there that he loved above all others. What Robin didn't know, was who he was…

His breath caught his throat, his eyes opening at the sounds. Wearily he blinked, his gaze muddled and confused as he glanced around. The sun hung lower in the sky, a curse in every language. Robin had not meant to fall asleep…whether it was sleep, or if he had fallen unconscious from exhaustion and ill pain he could not tell. Either way it did not bode well for him. There were footsteps echoing in the open are, a voice he had heard before but could not place.

In his hand he still held the bow, and he gripped it even tighter as he felt with his free hand in the dirt at his feet, his eyes searching. Three arrows remained…the fourth had broken in the fall that had taken place earlier. He would have to take care with his shots. If he even knew how to shoot. But the bow felt familiar in his hands; he knew how to use one, even if the grain of the wood was not as his hands remembered. Something about it was off, but what he could not tell.

With a breath he strung an arrow, his fingers curling around the string as they held it in place. His other hand tightened about the wood, and with a quick move he righted himself, ignoring the pain and aiming his shot. How he knew without so much as a pause was a mystery to him. An intoxicating feeling, one that was thrilling beyond words filled him as the arrow tore through the air, hitting the mark that he hadn't even aimed for.

The man stopped still, his face a deathly shade of white as the arrow buried itself deep in the trunk of a tree he had just crossed. His eyes first studied the projectile, and then turned to where Robin was hiding. It was no mystery now, and another arrow was strung and ready to fire as he stepped out.

If the other man was afraid he did not show it. Not a surprise for Robin; as a thief the man probably already had his fair share of unwelcoming encounters. Why should one more make any difference? Killing him would be easy; Robin could feel that much in his heart. All that would be needed was an aim to the left, a little more height to the arrow and it would sing true.

"Robin?"

It was in the form of a question, and for a brief moment something of familiarity flickered across his brain. But it was gone the next, and it made no more sense to him than the wonderment of how the trees grew tall, or why the leaves fell during the autumn season. He had met this man before…but where, and how were the questions on his mind that made his chest ache with uncertainty.

"Who are you?"

It didn't seem like a difficult question; there was a lot Robin did not understand at the moment, but even those words he could deduce a meaning from. Even so the other man stared at him, his face twisting into a strange expression as though the words were spoken in a language he could not understand.

"Robin…it's me, Will."

The uncertainty in his voice was not hard for Robin to miss. The simple pause in the man's response seemed forced, but why? Was it because he was honestly confused, or perhaps the man was trying to hide his true intentions under a false name? The moment of silence would have provided enough time to come up with one. Will was not a difficult name, if it even was a name.

"Robin…"

"I am no bird," Robin replied, growing agitated as he thought over what had been said. He pulled the string of the bow taunt as the other man began to approach. "Do not move."

He stopped as the arrow was sighted on him. This Will…if that was his name, was a smart man to know when he hadn't the upper hand. Curiosity spiked in him as he wondered how smart the individual could be.

"Tell me your name."

"I don't get what you're playing at," the man shook his head, beginning to move again. "Djaq's worried about you, there's no telling what sort of damage you can do…"

Robin brought the arrow up again, sighting in as the other approached. "I said do not move. I know how to fire an arrow, and I can fell you here and now. Consider yourself lucky I choose to let you live. Now tell me what I want to know."

He stopped again, silent save for the emotions that crossed his face. It was as though the man was weighing options, as if trying to decide what the best course of action was. Yet when his gaze fell upon the arrow aimed his way he seemed to figure that complying with the demands was his only choice.

"Will…Will Scarlet. Why do you even ask?"

A question for a question; Robin chose to ignore it. "Why are you following me?"

The man laughed, shaking his head as his gaze fell. "To take you back…"

So it was a trap…Robin pursed his lips, knowing that freedom was only moments away should he let the arrow fly free. A swift death would be a light sentence surely compared to what the thief may actually deserve. But something held him back; something stopped him from releasing his hold. Guilt, perhaps? Was it that he actually might know this man and did not wish to bring him any harm? Or was it simply because he could not bring himself to kill any man, not even a criminal?

A cause he had no time to think of. He saw the movement from the corner of his eye, a gut reaction provoking his response. The arrow left the string with a twang, darting through the air at incredible speed. The shot was aimed to kill; the slightest turn of his hand before release, the gentle breath of wind, and the startled reaction was all that saved him.

The arrow found flesh, burying deep into the other man's arm. A short cry cut through the air, rattling Robin's nerves clear down to his bones. There was a moment of shock on his face that matched the other's, but it faded into fear. He had just shot a man, a man he had no real intentions of harming, a man he may possibly know…

* * *

A simple knock on the door was all that alerted him that company had arrived. Until now, the man had been slouching in his chair, chewing on a nail as he mused over his endless thoughts. Some were of worry, others of agitation. There was an ample amount of concern on his part; he had long parted with a fair price of gold to evoke the services of a skilled master of a…particular art.

Trust no one…that had been his motto, a motto which he was now beginning to wish he had kept to. Change was never a good thing unless it was in his favor, and even now the Sheriff of Nottingham could smell the inkling of betrayal residing in the air.

So when the knock fell on the wood Vaysey had forced himself to remain calm, to keep his hopes in dismal regret lest his prayers be dashed once more. After a moment's breath he called out to invite the other in, a sly smile crossing his face as Gisborne entered in tow with another man.

"He has arrived, my lord."

"And does _he _have a name?" Vaysey wondered, stretching his neck out to glimpse a better view at the other man.

The stranger stood tall and alert, puling off darkened gloves with firm and irritated motions, his eyes narrowing as he regarded the sheriff with minimal interest. "I go by no name at all; it helps keep my head on my shoulders."

"Ah…" Vaysey nodded once, a short and curt motion. "So…No-name, why is that?"

"My profession is killing people," the man replied, "There are more like me out there who would wish me dead. Without a name one is hard to find."

"You don't say."

Vaysey was mildly amused; the man did not appear to be much, yet again he had learnt that appearances held no great law over strength and smarts. Robin Hood had proved that much to be true time and time again. The very thought angered him; true the man hadn't been of much trouble as of late, but Vaysey intended to keep it that way. A pest was best rid of when it was at its weakest.

"I was informed you were to arrive the day before," he added, "any particular reason you have come late?"

"Trouble in the forest," the man answered, "a minor delay. I am here for business though, not an idle chat. Assign me or I will leave. There are others who are offering me a fair sum."

"But I offer more," the sheriff said quickly, knowing that his idling could very well drive away the stranger.

"The reason I am here: I want the payment in full before I provide my services."

"So that you may go gallivanting with my money before your task is done?" Vaysey laughed. "Charming."

"Your….legendary status…has reached well beyond the borders of England. You use people; bend them to your will with their greed then dispose of them so that you can retain your money. I am no fool. The money will be sent to a location provided by me at the time I request. Only then will I agree to a contract."

It was amusing to listen to the man recite plans that had not even been thought up nor agreed to. In any other instance Vaysey would have disagreed; it was easy to find others to do work who were far more greedy and willing to take woeful risks. This man was different; he was what Vaysey needed.

"Gisborne, see to No-name's request, and make the man comfortable."

"This is folly my lord," Gisborne argued, "He should get nothing till Hood is dead. The outlaw is cunning enough and we have no proof this man is who he says he is."

"Quite right," the sheriff agreed, smiling at the glowering expression on the stranger. "Perhaps I should test him; I'll let him kill you first."

"My lord, all I'm saying…"

"I'm not interested in what you're saying," Vaysey cut him off, rising out of his chair in a fit. "I'm interested in what I'm saying. Our good friend here…No-name, has offered to do what you've failed to do time and time again. I say we show him a little more hospitality. Don't you agree?"

For a moment it was silent, Gisborne staring at him, as if trying to decide if it was worth challenging again. The man had it in him to do so, but he always lacked the backbone needed to stand up. For the most part it was satisfying; Vaysey had enough to ponder over to worry about trying not to break the man's heart. Marian was good enough at that by herself. He still found it amusing the woman had even returned, but he did enjoy how she toyed with his heart. And she had softened him; Vaysey could see it as the man backed down, nodding.

"As you wish, my lord."

He let out a crooked smile as Gisborne led the man away, but it fell into a dismal grin as soon as it closed. Now that it had been settled, he needed to find a way to stop the gold from ever reaching its destination.

* * *

He had watched Robin leave; the man had taken to his feet, fading quickly into the surrounding trees. He was compelled to follow him, but both the pain in his arm and fear of what might happen had kept him at bay. Long enough for the others to arrive, at least. Even the trees could not silence the angry cry that had left his lips as the arrow embedded itself into flesh and bone.

It was Djaq and Much that had brought him to his feet and back to camp. Will had told the peculiar story not once, but twice for the prying ears and eyes that returned from the hunt he had almost joined. Allan and John hadn't the slightest idea of what had happened, blaming his fresh injury on a misstep or a slight with Robin. The last idea had been an joke, and their faces fell into surprise as Will confirmed their suspicions to be true.

"He shot you?"

Will nodded to John who had asked, his eyes watching Much strut back and forth in front of the camp. He had been restless ever since Will had told the story, refusing to believe it at first only to melt into a state of worry and concern. If not for Djaq the man would have already gone to search for his master.

"We should go," he alluded to Will's thoughts as he came to a stop. "He didn't mean to shoot you."

"He did."

The comeback wasn't meant to be rude or accusing; he was simply stating what had happened. Even now he could remember the look in the man's eyes, the emotions that covered his face. It was indescribable…unexplainable. How was it that someone you saw everyday, someone in whose hands you put your life, could be so different?

There hadn't been any anger. Anger Will could understand, anger Will could handle. This was not the case, it was almost as if…

"I don't think…" Will stopped himself, knowing that what he was about to say sounded ridiculous. But everyone now was watching, waiting to hear the words that he knew he had to say. "I don't think he knew who I was."

There was silence, then a burst of laughter, the others shrugging off the ill-timed joke. It was worse for Will, because the words had been said in earnest. He shrugged painfully to their response, bringing up his hand to cover the bandaged wound. It hurt, but it was not serious.

Yet as the others were laughing , Djaq was not. Her solemn gaze met with his for only a moment, then she cleared her voice as she spoke. "I have heard of it before. Men forgetting who they were."

"What?" Much shook his head, trading glances between Will and Djaq. "that doesn't make sense."

"In war," she continued, nodding towards him. Her gaze spread outwards to the rest of the members. "They were stories, but they had to hold some truth."

"How do you know?" Allan demanded, his voice growing taunt as it always did whenever he was stressed.

"Too many knew the stories," she answered simply.

"Doesn't mean they're true," he shook his head. "That's why they're stories. No one just forgets who they are."

"What about Harold?"

Much had questioned him, bringing up a curious notion in Will's mind.

"Harold knew who he was…he could remember people, remember where he was…for the most part."

"My master does not have Crusader Sickness…we've been back from the Holy Land for over a year now."

"This was not Crusader Sickness," Djaq cut them off. "They were men, injured in battle. When they woke they could not even tell you their name. They would not remember for hours, or sometimes days or weeks."

It was a burst of flame that sparked inside of Will then, something bursting back into his memory that he had discarded earlier. Why had it taken him so long to think of it?

"Robin didn't know his…he kept believing that I was calling him a bird. It didn't make sense then but it does now."

"So, we're really going to believe that Robin doesn't know who he is, or who we are, or anything at all?" Allan scoffed, shaking his head. "Right then, so what do we do?"

"What do you mean?" Much questioned, "We go find him."

"And have him shoot one of us like he did Will?" Allan wondered.

"Well, we can't just let him run about the forest," he argued, "Robin's hurt; we have to help him."

"How can we if he doesn't recognize us? We can't even get close." Allan shrugged again, "I say let him run for now. He'll come back when he remembers, if that silly folktale is even true."

"But if he doesn't remember us," Will cautioned, "he won't remember the Sheriff, or Gisborne…."

There was a still silence among them, each turning their gaze to look at another as the information started to sink in. Will did not know if it was wise to trust Djaq, but he did know one thing. If she was wrong there was little chance of harm befalling Robin. But if she was right, then the consequences for Robin could be disastrous.

* * *

The trees never seemed to change. If he was going deeper into the forest, or coming out of it he could not tell. As far as his knowledge extended, he could very well be running in circles and not discover it until he came upon the injured man again. The very man he had shot…

The imagery of the stranger's face freezing up as the arrow struck its intended mark engorged his mind, bringing Robin to a harsh and sudden stop. His feet were tangled up under him, and he grabbed for a tree as he went down. Tumbling in a complicated mess he allowed his body to sink to the ground, dirt and grime clinging to his clothes and sweaty skin as he struggled for breath.

Long ago he had dropped the bow, despite the fact that it could be the key to his safety. He wanted nothing to do with it, not after seeing what exactly he_ could_ do with it. The stranger had seemed harmless enough, but his own paranoia had forced him to believe different. Now, somewhere in this blasted forest, a man was suffering, maybe even bleeding to his death this very moment.

Robin held his head in his hands, prying off the bloody bandage with a grunt, tossing the soiled cloth into the dirt. Already his head felt better without the restrictive cloth holding it tight. But it did nothing for the ache in his chest.

He pressed a hand against it , trying to will his heart to slow and his lungs to fill with the much needed air. Instead of the even texture of cloth against skin he felt something else, something that in his mind he knew shouldn't be there. With trembling fingers he dug in the pocket, pulling free the small item in question.

It was a symbol of a bird, an owl by the looks of it, that stared back at him. Slowly he turned it in his hands, his eyes narrowing as he sought for any clues that it might hold. Yet if he was somehow hoping that an idea would spring forth it left him in disappointment. There wasn't the slightest notion to what it was, or to why he might possess it.

With care he slid it onto his ring finger, pulling it off when it did not feel right. Again he tried another finger, switching hands but to no avail. Perhaps there was a reason it was kept in his pocket, due to a secret or maybe because of its significant value. Robin stared at it a moment longer before dropping it back to where he had found it. For now it would harm no one to keep it hidden a bit longer until he found out what purpose it served.

With an inward sigh he brought his knees to his chest, folding his arms and cradling his head in them. It was amazing in how many ways his body hurt, and not only in a physical sense. He felt ill for the actions he had committed, his mind in a constant battle to whether it had been right or not. Physically his body was already beyond his normal limits. Though he could not say what they were he could feel it with every beat of his heart, and every ragged breath his body drew in. He needed sleep…he needed rest; but he craved neither.

Nor did he have anything compelling him to move. The sun was continuing its descent in the sky and before long the bright blue sky would turn to a darker shade in favor of the moon and stars. It was not wise to remain here; shelter and safety was something much desired, but Robin found it difficult to encourage his languid body to even move.

But he did; somehow he managed. His legs shook with the effort, his stomach swimming as much as his vision as he staggered through the forest. Something had caught his attention, a sound on the wind. Or sounds, as it would be more appropriate to say. A collection of voices, a vocalic jumble of animal sounds and a variety of noises and pitches that pertained to life and work had drawn him to a village. For a moment he remained, resting against a tree as he gazed down at the lake that ran alongside a handful of buildings, wondering if perhaps he lived here, or somewhere similar.

He could see people milling about, tending to livestock, carrying buckets of water from the well. Further off a group of children played, dancing about one another as they chased as stray chicken across the worn road. Another man busied himself thatching a roof and an old woman concentrated on a pot brewing over a fire. For certain Robin was weary, but at the same time the sights, sounds and aromas were inviting, more than he could ever say.

The trek down was not difficult, and Robin found himself milling on the outskirts of the said village in a few short minutes. His breath had calmed and his heart pulsed in steady beats, but the ache was ever present in his muscles, reminding him that he was very near exhaustion. He kept to himself, moving within shadows, coming to rest against a fence. How the villagers would react to his presence was still a mystery, and Robin did not want to draw attention if it was nothing kind.

They seemed to be fair enough of folk, some sharing quiet smiles and gentle nods as they hurried along the length of road that split the village in two. He kept crouched at where he was at, watching them interact with a sullen wanting. He could not describe the feeling that kept driving him to wish he were a part of what he was not. How he knew he was not a part of this he couldn't explain, but a feeling deep inside told him to take care, to exercise caution. Why would it do so unless that much was true?

"Oy! What are you doing there?!"

The question caught him off guard, the man obviously angry as he came up towards him. Robin was about to flee but the expression on the other's face softened when he saw him.

"Forgive me, Robin; I didn't recognize you at first. I've had thieves of late, you must understand."

Robin gave a curt nod, his heart skipping a beat. He could relate, but his focus was more on the fact that this man seemed to know him. All he needed to do now was to keep him talking without revealing his true hurts. "Thieves you say?"

"Jump my fence; steal my wood, my tools. We're all hurting, it doesn't help us none when we steal from one another. Kids, I'll blame them. Foolish young men who think they can get ahead of everyone else by causing other's misfortune. They don't realize that without my work the village would be in more trouble than it already was. Can't repair what's broken if we don't have the materials."

"It's bad then?"

"No worse off than it's been," the man shook his head. "If it's not one thing it's another. Sheriff taxing us to no end, Gisborne watching our every move and penalizing us for irrelevant things. Whatever works to get more money; bloody whelps don't realize they've already taken everything we have to offer. What little we do hide barely feeds our families let alone ourselves. But you know that, I'm sure."

"Yes," Robin lied through his teeth, turning back to watch the villagers. He didn't know; didn't know if he should even feel compassion. Sure the man was hurt, was still hurting emotionally simply due to the stature of his voice. Yet at least he knew what was going on; that was more than Robin could say. He didn't even have that little to offer.

"So what is your business here?"

The question had not been spoken in a harsh manner, but rather an inquisitive one and the look on his face seemed almost to be asking for something other than just an answer. It left Robin frowning as he turned away once again. He had no idea what he was doing here, but he did know one thing. He wanted to stay.

He had moved to his feet when the first shout came; the pounding of hooves digging into the ground and the sight of the horses moving into the village. Robin stood, entranced at how the villagers barely scrambled out of the way of the oncoming animals, several dropping buckets of water and baskets of food. What little food they lost was trampled on, the men riding not even bothering to slow.

How could anyone do such a thing? The notion left him bewildered as the bullies continued on, led by man dressed in black. The creatures under them screeched as they were brought to a halt, the villagers all hanging back and avoiding the group all together. Robin started forward, more determined to give the man a piece of his mind but he was held back, the stranger grasping his shoulder.

"Leave it, Robin. You'll do more harm than good. Now is the time for you to leave."

This time the words were spoken more accusingly, and it left him confused. A moment ago the man had been friendly…but with the arrival of this new stranger everything seemed to change. The stranger had left him, moving back to his house and leaving Robin where he stood. Many of the villagers were doing their best to resume their chores, but were hindered by the group that had to arrive.

A surge of fury brew inside of him as several of the followers accosted a woman carrying an armload of provisions. Her shouts and pleading went unnoticed by others, and the confrontation only escalated as she tried her best to hold onto what was obviously precious to her.

Robin was moving even before the thought registered. He leapt over the fence, striding out into the open with a scowl on his face. "Let her go."

There were some murmurs, but the group of men seemed to pause, considering his words. The young woman still struggled in their hold, pleading with them to listen. Inside his chest his heart hammered, as Robin was trying to place what was happening. He had no business being here, had no reason to help this woman, and now he faced half a dozen armed men without a single weapon. It was official: he was crazy.

"Hood," the lead man dressed in black rode up in front of him, a mocking smile on his face. "Should have known you would have shown up."

"Let her go," Robin repeated himself, swallowing down the worry that was building inside of him. He was risking a chance here, perhaps a big one. He couldn't tell, but it almost felt as though he was…enjoying this crazy stunt.

"My men need their enjoyment from time to time; no permanent harm will come to her."

"No harm will come to her as long as I'm here."

The man smiled, drawing a sword from his side. The horse danced under him at the sound of metal on metal, prancing nervously. Robin was unfazed by the subtle threat.

"Perhaps then I'll let them take their boredom out on you. Seize him!"

The men released the woman as soon as the order was called, and Robin found himself turning to run in the next moment. He was fast, but even he could not outrun a horse. The creature was in front of him in mere seconds, the man dressed in black bringing his escape to a halt.

Robin fell to his knees, bracing the impact with his hands and then clambering back to his feet as he turned the other way. The men were behind him, however, swords drawn, each taking turns taunting and goading him. One came at Robin with a lunge, a move that he avoided easily. This prompted the others to attack, Robin being forced into a mindless dance as he wove between each body, hoping and praying that the next stroke would not be his last.

Mentally he was cursing himself. He had led himself into a trap. Stirred up trouble in a village that had asked for none. Around him others were running, moving to get out of the way as the deadly sword dance continued through the open spaces. With a jump he caught the edge of an overhang, swinging himself over a bundle of provisions and dropping free on the other side.

He ran; the tree line ahead of him, calling him to safety. He could hide in there, he knew. The horse would not follow as easily and even now the men following were doing so at an awkward pace, tripping over the supplies and crates that were in the way. Robin found himself smiling as he turned back, his pace increasing as his adrenaline surged. He was going to make it; or so he thought.

The last few feet brought him to a sudden stop, the large form of the horse blocking his way. He actually hit the creature's side, his feet slipping on the grass beneath him. He would have fallen, but a hand wrapped in his tunic, pulling him to his side, and a fist found its way into his stomach.

The blow knocked him to his knees, and before he even had a chance to breathe he was pulled back up, arms drawn around his back. The knife that appeared at his throat only stopped in descent as the man dressed in black held out his arm. The smile on his face was anything but inviting and Robin found himself grimacing inward as he fought off the earlier pain.

"The sheriff would want to be seeing him," the man smiled. "As would I."

**TBC**


	5. Consequences

**Thanks to _Kegel _for the beta, this would still be a mess if it wasn't for her :)**

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**Chapter Five: Consequences**

Robin was not the reason he had returned to Locksley. In fact the outlaw had been the furthest thing from his mind. Despite the fact that Vaysey's demand to have an assassin solve the persistent problem had agitated him, the outlaw and his men were forgotten in the arrival of an old lover. She was a woman who he had once thought to spend the remainder of his years with. A woman who's beauty had forsaken all others, and would help cleanse his soul.

She was the same woman who had left him, the same one who had destroyed his life with a single action. He had told himself that Marian was dead to him the day she left, riding away with Robin. That was what he wanted to believe at least. At nights he found himself lacking the much needed sleep, wondering to where she had gone.

For a time he assumed she had settled down with the outlaw. The signs were obvious; she cared for him, and he loved her. It angered him. Still Gisborne could not wrap his mind around her reasoning. He was a man of power, a man who had held wealth, lands and the respect of the sheriff. Hood was a thief; homeless, penniless and furthermore a nuisance. Night after night these realizations tormented him, leaving him to wonder why she would choose a public derelict over a man of his stature.

Then it had occurred to him, over time, that she had not. There were reasons…reasons behind everything. Marian had left him because he had lied. A lie he did not want to tell, but was prompted to do so by Vaysey. He had argued at first; should have continued to do so, but he wanted her, more than he could speak the very words. He had broken her trust…and trust was such a fragile thing to build up.

Robin had been there just as he had been to many other pandemonic events. He held his reputation on being a hero, on rescuing the damsel in distress and helping the weak fight a battle they could never truly win. Marian had taken the chance because it had been there. That did not mean she loved the man; it could not mean that. If it were true, then every measly peasant Robin had rescued would have joined his band of meddling outlaws long ago. Most certainly the man had sent her on her way shortly after he had rescued her.

There was a time when he held Robin in his hands. Had the power to do what he would, to kill him. But one thing stopped him, one thing always held him back. The knowledge that Robin might have held clues to Marian's whereabouts. Surely he would have kept track, would have followed her and Gisborne even believed that Robin crept towards her during the nights when all was silent in Nottingham. The dreams plagued Gisborne, tormented and taunted him.

That was why he had to know, why he had thought to force Robin to commit an act of supposed treason and utter Marian's whereabouts. But the outlaw had denied him that one desire, had kept his tongue still and secrets safe. Robin had escaped his prison to live another day, but that had mattered little then. Marian had been consuming his mind, clouding his thoughts. He had to know. Had to know if she still cared for him, or if any hope between them had been dashed the day she had literally dashed from his life.

So he sent his guards. It was risky, for more than one reason. He was afraid of Robin, to a point. The man could kill, and would do so if rage blinded him. Gisborne had, at the time, given the man more than enough reason to be choleric with him. The other reason had been Vaysey; if the sheriff had caught wind of the missing solders it would be disastrous in more than one affair.

The sheriff of Nottingham disliked sending soldiers away on errands, and would be even more irate to learn that Gisborne had sent several on a personal request without first gaining approval to do so. But Gisborne would have never asked, choosing instead to risk the disproval of the Sheriff rather than endure an infinite bout of mockery from the man. Somehow Vaysey always managed to hit the right spots, the ones that were soft and often sore from being over-prodded. Gisborne kept it silent for those reasons, sending select guards out further and further and waiting earnestly for any news.

News came. For a time Gisborne had wondered if it ever would. He suspected that Marian had left the shores for the safety of another land, seeking protection from another king and ready to escape the chaos that had somehow ground itself into the land. Gisborne wouldn't blame her if she had. At times he was tempted; due mostly to the feeling of hopelessness that encumbered him during the times that Robin had bested him and the sheriff hung the cruel taunting of humiliation over his head.

Yet the offering of power was too great. Nowhere else was there someone willing to offer him lands as well as a title. What he had now was at risk to be lost if the sheriff so desired. The man reminded him on occasion, as if to make Gisborne understand that all he had could very well be taken away with a single word. It was a cruel and infuriating game that the sheriff played, similar to how the man toyed with his birds.

He gave them shelter, gave them food, and an ounce of attention he liked to call 'love' in a mocking tone. It was on his terms, and if the ill-fated bird ended in his hands on a day the man felt no remorse, then the end had come. The birds were little more than well treated prisoners, but they were prisoners just the same, much in the way that Guy of Gisborne was. He was fed, sheltered, and given a little spit of lands that he did not care for and in return the people both hated and feared him.

Let them hate, let them fear, he thought with a scowl. In time the tides would turn, and the bird would escape the prison he had been forced into, and vanquish the captor in a triumph swoop. Then he would rule more than a spit of land, he would have it all. Prince John would see his capability and honor him with the rule of Nottingham while the sheriff was sent crawling away. But for now…for now the sheriff was his protector; without his good faith he could get nowhere, and so he subjected himself to the man for reasons beyond what he could not describe.

In his life though, he wanted simpler things as well. He wanted a wife, wanted love. He wanted children to grow and carry his name so that he was remembered well beyond his own years. He also wanted his soul to be clean, a virtuous act that would allow a chance for it to be accepted by God. Vaysey claimed that no such thing existed and at times Gisborne was tempted to believe him. But he would rather believe that there was and try to appease Him, than to choose poorly and suffer for it all time.

So when the news came it took no hesitation on Guy's part to send a message back in response. Yet as the quill rested against the parchment he found himself at a loss for words. What did you say to a woman who had changed your life for the better or worse without uttering the words that most men seek to hear? Did he profess his love, his sorrow, or his guilt?

He chose none of the three, instead scratching a simple message requesting her to come for a visit. Surely no one could deny him that much. Yet he worried that she would, and more rightly so that she should. After a time he convinced himself that it was over, and even forgot the message had been sent save for a few spare days when time seemed endless and his thoughts had wandered.

That was why it was such a surprise to him to see her riding through the markets of Nottingham. She had with her a single man by the name of Lyre who spoke naught a word, and eyed him with curious glances as he tended to the horses.

Gisborne had been certain his whole world would change then, grateful at the notion that she had even returned, but before he could even speak she had cut him down. She was angry, bitter and near tears as she had tried to keep herself composed.

_Was it true? _She wanted to know. It was about her home; and after having lost her to a lie once he could not bring himself to tell another. So he had answered her with an affirmative. The first time she had run because he had told a lie. This time she had run because he had told her the truth.

It had sent him back to Locksley in glum thoughts. He could not win her; it seemed, with lies or honesty, so what was left to offer? Drowning his sorrows in ale seemed a likely solution to deal with the day's disappointments, and had shrouded his thoughts that even the bickering amongst his men didn't pull him out of it. He had let the men toy with the woman, actually relishing in the unfair fight when Robin had appeared.

That was when his woes and misfortunes had turned for the better. Unarmed and alone; it was an unusual combination for the outlaw but Gisborne assumed it was a game. He couldn't care less; he had the famed outlaw in his grasp, and now held the intention to flaunt his trophy to the sheriff. The assassin was no longer needed and the sheriff would reward him for the money that would be saved in the end.

It was a long ride back to Nottingham, but Gisborne would not toil or wait. Nor would he trust his incompetent guards to do a proper job. Hood would be delivered by his hands or no one's at all. He kept a steady pace, ignoring the stifled sounds that came from behind him as the outlaw desperately tried to keep to his feet.

By the time they had reached Nottingham the man appeared to seem so ragged that it left Gisborne to wonder if being captured was really a part of Hood's plan. If it was then the act was superb, or else things had gone ill for the outlaw and the thought made him smile. If it hadn't gone ill yet, then it would soon. There was to be no more fooling; the sooner Robin died the better it would be. Robin would not escape his clutches this time.

Gisborne waited long enough to see the man dragged to a cell, then left for the Sheriff's quarters despite the time of night. It was a rule that the sheriff was not to be awakened unless it was worthy, and Robin Hood's capture was certainly worthy. Gisborne was rounded up the stairs, hurrying his pace, but faltered as he came into the courtyard.

Under the pale moonlight she was like an angel gliding through the night, coming to a stop as their eyes met. Gisborne had never intended to approach her so soon after her departure, but fate wasn't something that could be changed. Dressed in a simple red dress her hair was slung about one shoulder, her eyes red and weary and Gisborne knew she had been crying.

"I thought you returned to Locksley," Marian said wearily, her voice crisp like a sour note in the air. The vehemence behind it could not be mistaken.

"I had business to tend to," he explained. It did no good to try and explain politics to a woman, even one as curious as Marian. Aside from that he wanted the credit for the outlaw's capture to be his and his alone. "I did not know you would be here."

He did not know what he was admitting to. To the fact that the hour was late, or the fact that she was still in Nottingham at all.

"Where else do I have to go?" she wondered, "The only home I truly loved is now gone."

It was meant to pierce him, Gisborne knew. It worked. Even now he had no thoughts as to why he had committed the action then. Now all that remained was guilt, and Marian knew how to stir the pot well. "Forgive me."

"Is that all you have to say?" she wondered, allowing herself to rest against the wall.

"What would you have me say?"

He wondered if any words could cure her sorrow and take back what had already been done. If so then he would speak them earnestly and truly if it meant a chance of forgiveness. But she gave him a long look and shook her head sadly.

"I expect you to say nothing," she paused and Gisborne felt she had spoken the truth, but then she continued. "As always; you speak of falsehoods and lies, you have done so more than once. It was your intention to bring me back here in hopes to resume where we last left. I have no intention of marrying you, Guy of Gisborne."

That was expected; he had done her no favors in the past save for one. "You know I cannot protect you otherwise; the sheriff believes you to be affiliated with Hood. I am obligated to tell him."

"You won't."

And she was right. He could threaten, but Marian would not yield. Even if he did speak with the sheriff, the man would probably allow her to live simply to torment him. Marian knew this somehow, a steady unwavering emotion on her face that backed her comment.

"I won't," he nodded towards her, feeling the guilt lesson slightly. He could still provide her with the safety he had promised once before, and maybe, just maybe with time she would come to her senses and they could start what had been lost once before.

* * *

His luck was turning for the worse, and fast. From the forest where he had been robbed and injured, to the village where he had been captured, both seemed to be a better fate than the one he faced now. His eyes had difficultly adjusting to the darkness, and his breath caught in his chest at the concoction of smells that wafted in the dank musty dungeon. How anyone could survive in such a horrid place or even come to stand it was beyond him.

Pebbles and bits of debris welcomed his flesh harshly, and even the thin layer of mud and festering waste did not soften the impact as he was thrust inside the cell. On his hands and knees he rested for a moment, eyes closed as he did his best to breathe through his mouth, trying to convince himself that it really did not smell so bad.

Yet it was the only thing keeping him from collapsing to the floor. Even still, Robin wasn't sure if he could manage to stay like this the entire night, let alone for the next few moments. Having been forced to run the entire way behind a horse he was worse for the wear than he had been before. His legs burned and his chest was tight, the wound on his head throbbing as fresh blood trickled down his brow and plodded into a small puddle on the back of his hand.

What he had done he did not know. It made him an innocent man forced to endure whatever his captors conjured in their minds. It frightened him, scared him beyond his wits, but a voice told him it was no time to panic. Instead he had to think, but his mind was empty of any helpful thoughts. He felt the tears forcing their way out through his still closed eyes and he was quick to hastily wipe them away, leaving behind traces of mud and filth on his face. They were not from weakness, he convinced himself, but instead from the smell.

Behind him a scattering of noise startled him, Robin turning to see the small bowl tumbling over and tossing its contents out in the fading light. A few slices of thin bread, a half picked stalk of grapes and a cup of water so small it may have done enough of a job to only wet his mouth.

"Feast for the prisoner," the stout man snarled, watching him with a single crippled eye. The other was hidden beneath a cloth, suggesting further injury had somehow occurred to him sometime before he found himself is this pitiful job. "The previous wretch chocked himself the night before; means you get a little extra before the lot spoils, so don't let my generosity go to waste."

There was a grotesque gleefulness to his voice that churned Robin's stomach, but he was moving even as the jailer left. He was as ravenous as he was weary, clutching the stale bread as if it were a prize worthy of a king. Hard as rock and half consumed by mold it hardly deserved to even be called food but still he ate. There were a total of five grapes, all bruised and rotting but those too disappeared along with the mouthful of water that did not even wash away the putrid taste.

Though he would never openly wish for another such meal Robin ran his fingers along the thin bowl searching for any more crumbs that may have been left behind. The food had simply been a cruel and taunting game, enough to torment his stomach but not enough to completely satisfy it. Now he wasn't sure if it had helped, or made him worse for the wear.

Dropping the bowl with a clatter he leaned against the wall, no longer carrying about the wet and muddied ground. The scurrying of rats echoed through the dismal prison, their squeaks seeming to be the only noise aside from his heavy breaths. Robin closed his eyes as he brought his knees up to his chest, using them as a pillow to cradle his hurting head.

The food, he had decided, was a good sign. It meant for now he was to live, and if he could live long enough, then he could find a way out of here. How he wasn't sure, but an inkling in his mind told him it could be done. He just needed to think, and though knowing anything about his predicament would have helped him gravely there was nothing there.

Robin hadn't the slightest clue of where he was, or why he had been brought here. Yet the man in black seemed more than pleased to have him arrested. So what was it that had he done that deserved such treatment? Perhaps the woman he had defended was not as innocent as she seemed, perhaps he had interfered with something beyond his comprehension.

Friends or foes it was all too complicated to figure out, and his mind was hurting worse than before. He couldn't fight it forever, and with nothing left to do and nowhere to go Robin finally gave into his fatigue and allowed himself to sleep.

* * *

It was difficult to keep up. He had rested, tended to his own wounds, had trained…but since his injury in the fire he had yet to go a full day like this. None of them had, but the others were proving far more capable than he was. It was infuriating for Will; his mind yearned to do more, especially at this moment, but his body was refusing to cooperate. Adding in the stress of the situation and his newly acquired wound, it only made things more difficult.

He came to a pause, resting against a tree, a hand pressed against his leg. It was more or less healed, but weakened, and the constant running through the forest had not done him any favors. For a time he had kept up with the others, slowing after a bit and it was Djaq's suggestion to split up into groups. _Bless her_, he had thought then. The look in her eyes had told Will that she knew of his struggles.

They had stayed together, the other three going in a separate direction. He knew it was because she wanted to keep an eye on him. It should have irritated him, but instead he was grateful. She had slowed the pace, keeping out in front and only risking a glance back when he had come to a stop. They had been to two villages now, and were on their way to a third. No one had seen the archer and Will's concern had only continued to grow. His first instinct had been to check Nottingham, but it also was the furthest village away. They would save time, the others argued, to check the villages as they worked their way to the castle.

"We should go back."

Djaq had slowed her pace when he had come to a stop, but when it was apparent that Will was not to continue any time soon she had retraced her steps.

"We should go on."

He met her gaze with a steady one of his own. What good would it do to go back to the camp empty handed? He wouldn't be able to rest, and they would be doing no favors to Robin in the end. As if to prove his point he pushed away from the tree, continuing on his way.

He heard Djaq protest, but it only seemed to encourage him to continue. He knew that his decision was the right one. The others wouldn't stop, and neither would he. That was what he wanted to believe at least. A few more paces found him at another stop, the Saracen shaking her head as she watched him.

"What would you have me do?" he wondered, challenging her. It was shameful, because she didn't deserve this kind of treatment, but he was angry. Angry at both himself and Robin for the situation that was now unfolding. A trifle amount of pain wouldn't have stopped Robin, and there was no doubt in Will's mind about the fact that Robin would never consider abandoning one of his men in favor of comfort for himself. When she said nothing he let out a sigh.

"I have to try," he explained, "Robin might need us."

"If that is true, then you would do him more a favor if you can fight."

"I can fight."

"You can't."

He scowled, but said nothing because he knew she was right. Thanks to his newest wound he couldn't support a bow much less draw one, and he needed both hands to wield his axe properly. He could probably do well enough with a sword one handed, but he honestly prayed he wouldn't find himself in a situation that required quick footwork.

"Then let me think," he finally responded, realizing then and there that was about as much as he had to offer. He was good with his hands, and with his mind. Even if they found Robin, if their thoughts were true, then they needed a scheme to encourage the man they meant no harm. But how was that to be done?

He saw Djaq nod, relieved that she was agreeing with him. At the very least she was no longer trying to convince him to return to the camp. A few more minutes of rest and he was certain they would be on their way again. He was right.

They hadn't moved from the spot, hadn't the time when they first caught sound of the others. Much and Allan were leading the way, running swiftly and John following further behind with just as much urgency. That sign alone was discomforting at the best. Will pushed from the tree, swaying on his feet as they arrived.

Much was breathing hard, face flushed from the run and he pointed behind him, trying to find the words that failed to come. "Robin….Locksley…guards…"

"What?" Will watched the three as they all arrived, trading a quick glance with Djaq. They were barely understandable, but the words he had caught were not encouraging.

"What he means to say," Allan breathed, recovering from the run swifter than the others, "we went to Locksley…talked to the villagers there. Robin was there."

Will nodded, waiting for him to continue. He grew impatient at the pause. "Well?"

"Gisborne was there," John answered where the others failed. "They have him."

"We have…have to…to…" Much was still trying to gather himself, failing in words, but Will could understand for himself now.

"We have to go to Nottingham," he gave a slight nod. He could only pray that they weren't too late.

**TBC**


	6. Coming Realizations

**Next installment here. Sorry for the wait, in-between work, remodeling, and trying to enjoy the nice weather I haven't had much time to do writing. Thanks goes to Kegel for fixing this up for me and correcting my many mistakes. :)**

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**Chapter Six: Coming Realizations**

He woke up feeling worse than before. Though the sharp piercing pain was gone, it had been replaced by a steady dull throb that seemed to work its way throughout his body. His muscles ached from the long peregrinations he had endured the day before. It hadn't occurred to him until now the amount of running he had actually done. Through the forest, and then the trek from the village to the castle had done him in. Even the night's sleep hadn't cured him, but he hadn't expected it to.

Hunger gnawed at him, the miniscule meal he had supped had done him little good. In fact he couldn't tell if it had only made things worse, his stomach twisting in anger perhaps due to the quality of the food. Yet it wasn't like he had held any choice in the matter.

But that wasn't really the thing on his mind. Finding a way out was. This was not a place he belonged, nor was it a desire to be here. Slowly, albeit surely, Robin found his way to his feet. Stretching and moving gingerly he managed to work some of the stiffness from his tired muscles. During this time his eyes surveyed the cell that had recently become his hearth.

As before, Robin was not certain for what he was looking for. His eyes seemed to have a mind of their own, reading the walls, surveying the corners. Part of him was sure that he would know what he was searching for once he found it, but finding nothing he forced himself to look again. With a sigh of irritation he leaned against the bars that separated him from his freedom, peering out into the murky light.

It was morning, or at least he assumed it to be. In all honesty he could not say for how long he had slumbered in the dank cell. A few minutes could have eluded him just as well as hours could, and with no light from the outside he could not be certain. This left him wondering, trying to put together when the jailer would come again. For certain he could not be far; what if something happened?

Robin knew that he and the other prisoners were well from prying eye and ear. Not that anyone would fret over a prisoner's death, he concluded, but on the offhand of someone escaping…no, someone had to be near, even if it wasn't the jailer himself. He tried then to conjure in his mind what to say, fighting to bring forth the words that were now eluding him.

Instead he let out a sharp whistle. Short and precise, a tone that stood out against the muffled clamor and cut through the air. Robin paused for a moment, listening intently for any signs that someone had heard. Would it even work, he had to wonder. A single note was no real form of communication, but it felt…it felt natural. That was the difficult part to describe.

Shouting and yelling would have sufficed more, but more certain than not he would have attracted more attention than desired. He needed to get the man to trust him, and Robin's mind was working furiously on how to do that even as he let out another whistle.

There was a response this time, the footfalls echoing through the cellar drew near in a jagged and unsteady pattern. He watched the man come into view, torch in his hand illuminating all that was around him. The light was unaccustomed to his eyes and Robin found himself squinting, trying to make the man out as he came near.

"Was it you?" the man wondered, grunting in disproval as he came to a stop in front of him. "You not be gettin' anything from the likes of me 'til the night. That's when rounds are made; though I hafta wonder if you'll still even be here."

There was clear mocking in the man's voice that led Robin to believe he would be free of here sooner than expected, but perhaps not in the way he desired. Robin pursed his lips, thinking over the words before speaking them. Most likely he would pay for whatever was said so it was a wise deal to consider them carefully.

"Do not exert yourself far, my friend; I do not plan on staying long. Though my departure might hasten if you would lend me a hand."

This caused the man to laugh, his free hand hanging on his face as he coughed a few sharp times at the supposed jest. "Me? The jailer of Nottingham let one of my own prisoners go? By my own hand?"

"You have the keys," Robin shrugged his shoulders, keeping his expression mute. He couldn't afford to give the slightest hint of fear or worry lest he betray his real need. "What would happen if they were to become loose from your belt and fall, I wonder?"

"The Sheriff of Nottingham would have my head, is what would happen," the man scoffed, "'sides, I don't partake with the likes of criminals."

"And if I were innocent?"

"No man here is innocent."

"I have committed no crime," Robin argued, his heart skipped a beat. His face was smooth, suppressing any hints of the lie he had just spoken. Surely there was no way the man could know of what happened in the forest. The man he had fired upon had been a thief, and the likelihood that a criminal return to the law to speak against someone who had wronged him was obsolete unless he too wished to share in the coming punishment. That was if he even lived, Robin mused.

"No crime?" the jailer laughed, "no ill deed you've ever done? No penny you have stolen, no food for the hungry, no man you have killed?"

The statement left him queasy, it was as if the man could read his mind and even though Robin sheltered the meager memories he had he could not hide them forever.

"You were in the Crusades once, lying it would be to claim you've never taken a man's life," the jailer continued to goad him, forcing a chill through Robin's frame.

It was alarming, sickening to know a stranger knew more about who he was than what he knew about himself. And for a moment his face betrayed that knowledge, the queasiness growing and spreading throughout his body. The jailer laughed, a sneer at his face.

"Enjoy yer time here. You'll soon appreciate it when you leave."

"Wait," Robin called out after him, reaching into his pocket, his fingers closing around the metal. What good it would do he could not say, but he had to try. This may as well be his only chance, for who knew when or if the jailer would come back? When he did again, it may very well be too late.

The man paused for only a moment, irritation crossing his face as if the simple request had taxed him beyond exertion. But he turned, a frown occupying his features now as Robin pulled out the small ring.

"Perhaps this will change your mind."

Robin wasn't sure if he meant to ransom the ring in return for his freedom, or if perhaps he was expecting the man to fear the emblem in realization of a mistake being made. Robin had no notion of what power the ring held, but surely it meant something if he had taken the means to hide it well enough that the thieves in the forest did not steal it away like they had his purse.

"Where did you get that?"

The jailer was snarling, stepping forward quickly but Robin was already moving, shrinking back to the safety of his cell. Amusing, it was, that the very thing he was trying to leave was the very thing that could protect him. But more amusing was the fact his notion had been correct. The ring was of some value, enough so the cause the jailer to become flustered. "Open the door, and the ring is yours."

"Give it to me," the man hissed, "and I won't slice your hands clean off."

"I give it at will, for a price," Robin corrected, taking a step closer to the bars. As he was, he was close enough to reach out and touch the door, but far enough away that the man's own arm could not reach through and touch him. He would have to open the cell if he wished to draw any closer. "My freedom."

"Bargaining are we?" the man laughed. "All I need to do is speak with the sheriff. Thieves hang, but thieves that steal from him are lucky if they end up with just that."

"I did not steal it," Robin fumed, trying to keep his voice steady. True he could not say where it had come from, but the ring had been in his possession, so therefore it belonged to him, by choice or not. Who was this man to say otherwise?

"And why then does someone by the likes of you come by the sheriff's emblem?" the man wondered, staring at him. "He does not give them freely."

This caused him to smile inwardly, his mind reaching far but none the less conjuring up a simple speculation. "You tell me that someone of your likes hasn't one of his own?"

It hit a mark; the man scowled, reaching through the bars once again. Robin backed up another pace, holding the ring out for the jailer to see. Even reaching as far as he could, his finger tips could only brush the open air before the small trinket.

"I would have suspected that someone of your…stature would have many."

That could have been an outright lie for all Robin knew. For whatever reason this ring, the sheriff's emblem, was important; important enough to make the jailer jealous, enough to make the man hasty.

"You, of course could have it, if you agree to the bargaining price. The ring would be yours, to sell or to keep. Surely someone out there would desire to have something of such worth. How much does the sheriff pay you to tend to such undesirable matters?"

The jailer had stopped trying to reach him, hands wrapped around the bars and a scowl on his face. "I hold the keys to the safety of this city, dealing with the most hardened of criminals who would kill without thought or reason. Yet all I have are scraps tossed my way, nothing compared to what his worthless guards get."

The man jangled the keys by his side. "I can make anyone fear me; all I have to do is turn a key."

"What you will do now?" Robin wondered, smiling as the man nodded after a moment. "Then I will keep my word. You allow me to go my way, and the ring is yours."

"First the ring," the man motioned towards him, beckoning him closer. Robin held his ground with a simple shake of his head.

"I am no fool; open the door."

"And allow you to escape? I wouldn't think so."

He still held his hand out, palm facing up towards the ceiling that also served as the ground for those above. Robin found himself swallowing as he glanced that way, wondering what, or even where he would go if he did escape. Handing over his only prized possession, his only chance at freedom before he even obtained it would do him no service. But neither could he wait for another to show their face or for the jailer to change his mind and run away with his newly found prize once he had it in his grasp.

"It appears we are at a stalemate," Robin replied coolly, fingers closing over the ring. "An exchange at the same time?"

The jailer seemed to consider it, as if allowing him to leave would do him more harm in the end. But the wanton in his eyes for the tiny jewel was clear, and with a gruff snort he tore the keys from his belt, fumbling with them till the right one was found. Robin heard it slide into the place, the locks being moved as he turned the key.

That was when he bolted. Throwing his shoulder into the door he pushed it aside with surprising ease, knocking the jailer off his feet. The man half stumbled, half fell, trying to keep his fingers locked tightly about the bars that once held Robin hostage. The archer wasted no time in seeing if his former captor was well, his own worries and thoughts on his escape and only that.

His body protested, muscles screaming and head pounding as he lurched through the dungeon, scarcely aware of the shouts around him. It was difficult enough to see where he was going, the darkness concealing his every way. But he could not linger, not if he held any hope of seeing his freedom. No doubt there would be others to take him back if the jailer failed to subdue him. Robin did not want to give them that chance.

* * *

He hadn't gone to the Sheriff. Guy knew, somewhere in his mind, that he should have, but the encounter with Marian had occupied his thoughts leaving him to forget nearly all that had happened. When he had remembered it, he had dismissed it, convincing himself it wasn't important. Robin Hood could rot in the dungeons till the morning came, and then Guy would prepare himself to deliver the news to Vaysey.

Sleep had eluded him as well; he busied himself about the courtyard, pausing to take in one feature after another but never really seeing anything. The guards that kept their rounds during the nights offered him a word or two, but many kept silence upon seeing his demeanor. This he was thankful for.

It was tiring enough to sort the thoughts on his own than try and attempt to explain it to another man. Not that he ever would, for the secrets and desires he held were his own. The thought of what he lost was too hard to share emotionally with any, including Marian. If she hadn't run away then they would be man and wife. Perhaps he would even be a father. A young healthy son to call his own, who would carry his name and fortune as well as Marian's nature. There wasn't anything else he could ask for, nothing that he wanted more.

Though he wondered if that was really true. Time and time again the sheriff had taunted him with the grasp of power, only to take it away in the end. Oh to be the sheriff…it was a wonderful thought. Then he could force Marian into marriage; she would be his wife by choice or by law, Gisborne would see to that. He would have a wife, he would have power…everything he wanted.

Yet that was more a dream than anything else. Guy knew this with a fallen heart, and his wandering led him even further inside the castle halls. For now this was his home. True enough he had been offered Locksley, and though he took pride in having lands they were not his. Even his longing to change the name, to take the lands in his name, wouldn't change the fact they had once been Robin's. Even Marian had uttered the phrase that changing the name would do little good. Many of the people, too many, still were loyal to Robin despite his side of the law.

That would change, by heaven it would. Robin would hang this day, and his treacherous ways would be put to an end. With no man to turn to, no man to follow, the villagers of Locksley would have no choice but to accept Gisborne as their new lord. The satisfaction crossed his face in the form of a smile, a cheeky grin as he turned abruptly on his heel. Things would be set right one way or another, and it was time to announce to the sheriff Hood's coming demise.

The warm pale glow of the morning sun was illuminating the castle walls, bringing out hues of earthly tones caught in-between the fading stones. It would be a fine day, with clear skies and a brazen sun to warm the ground below. A perfect day as any for a hanging, and Gisborne hurried down the stairs. It would be best to catch the sheriff early, to announce himself before anyone else the fate of Locksley.

No sooner than he had thought it, the very man appeared before his eyes. Why he was as surprised Guy could not explain. He knew then what a fool he had been; Robin had always been keen on finding a way out. In one swift motion his sword was drawn, bringing the other man to a sudden stop. Guy couldn't help but smile, watching the unarmed warrior struggle to keep his balance. It was obvious that Robin did not expect anyone to catch his sudden departure.

"Going somewhere?" Gisborne questioned, leveling the sword just below the man's chin.

"I have no intention of staying."

"Sadly that choice is not yours."

The man had stayed his ground, an easy choice to make when a sword was pressed against flesh. Guy mused on how easy it would be to finish it here, to end it all. He would be known as the man who had defeated Robin Hood, the famous outlaw. The sheriff would reward him, and Robin's body would be toted around as a prized trophy from village to village as an example of what became of those who resisted the law.

It was too easy; even hanging seemed too easy of a fate to right all the wrongs the man had done to him, but Gisborne was certain he could talk to the sheriff into a different plan of action. It was the sheriff who had come up with many ideas of torment that seemed to make even Gisborne squirm with unwanted desire. Surely the man could come up with something else.

So when the guards responded to his command Gisborne forced himself to back off, to lower the sword when the men had him. Even still he held the weapon ready, eyes searching the shadows for any of Robin's men that would surely be lurking nearby.

There was nothing, every shadow was just that; empty and cold in the early morning light. It left him some speculation, wondering why Robin had not tried to escape, to why no one had come to his rescue. If Robin's men were not aware of their leader's predicament then it was a favor to all of them.

But Robin was more skilled than this…and something was not right. An ill forbidding feeling was settling in the pit of his stomach, and Guy was certain then that there was more going on than any of them understood. Yet what it was he could not be exactly sure, but he was going to find out.

* * *

He was back where he had started; the same small cell, and this time without any trinket to bargain his way out. There was more than just that, there was also the knowledge that his presence here was no simple mistake. Twice now the man in black, the man a guard had addressed as Sir Guy, had seen to it that he had been thrown in here. Now he was guarded by not only the jailer, but two guards as well.

That left him the question of what he had done. What crime had he committed that left others to desire his imprisonment here? He had questioned the guards, and received utter silence in return. Defeated Robin had sat himself in the corner, getting as comfortable as it was possible.

The time could have well been used for rest, but he could not force himself to sleep. The bitter taste of worry and fear resided on his tongue and empty, meaningless thoughts clouded his mind. What was there to do? What could he do? The answer, he knew very well, was nothing, and that alone was frustrating. He wanted to do something. Needed to try something. Despite his failure earlier Robin was still confident that there was a means of escape somehow.

He caught the faintest glimpse of the bright sunlight as the door to the dungeon opened, before the surrounding area was once again cast into the dim glimmer, lit only by fading torches. There was movement, footfalls sounding on stairs, echoing in the dark. Robin gazed wearily as the figure approached, a frown crossing his face as he came to a stop in front of his cell. A hooded man, cloaked in brown, or perhaps black. It was difficult to tell one color from another in the depths of the darkness.

He spoke quietly to one of the men, words muffled and unknown to the archer. A moment later the guard nodded, opening the cell and moving to the side so the stranger could enter. No sooner had the man entered that the door was closed once again, locks sliding into place.

"Leave us."

Robin expected the men to argue; they had been charged by Sir Guy to not leave the place. This they had done without complaint, so it was a wonder to Robin to see them leave without so much a single word. He felt his stomach tighten in anticipation and he moved to his feet warily. If something was about to happen then he wanted to be prepared.

"Peace, child," the man beckoned to him gently, his voice firm but soft. "No harm will come to you while I am here."

"Who are you?" Robin queried, unsure if he should trust someone so soon. Loyalty and friendship seemed hard to come by in these parts.

"You may call me Father Daniel. It is my…desire as well as my duty to see that a man's last words are that so he can repent for the sins he has done."

"Last words," Robin mused briefly, the realization sinking in. "So I am to die?"

"If God demands it," the man nodded, hands clasping together in front of him.

"Has God ever demanded otherwise?"

The question caught him off guard, and Robin could see the man considering it, as if collecting his thoughts wisely. "There have been times that an intervention has happened; it is God's way. Do you question his doing?"

"When it is not his, but another man's doing," Robin replied. He knew very well that it would be human flesh that would bring about his demise, not some Godly being.

"It is not the time," Daniel scolded him, "for mockery. Repent now, speak of your wrong doings, or chance an eternity suffering from your arrogant behavior."

"I have done nothing ill to speak of. Not that I can remember."

It was partially true; the man he had shot in the forest had been in self-defense. This Robin had convinced himself time and time again. To the point that he believed it now.

"What is this you speak of? All men sin; more is a sinner who claims to have not done so at all."

"Listen to my words," Robin answered curtly, growing weary of the game. "I cannot remember…that does not make me an innocent man. Neither does it make me a guilty one. I ask what my crimes are, and yet no one can tell me. Who then is the guilty man?"

The priest clasped his hands, let out small smile and a nod. "Come, child, take faith. Tell me everything that has happened, and I shall see what I am able to do."

**TBC**


	7. Turning of the Wheels

**Thanks to Kegel for the beta! I rather enjoyed writing this chapter and hope to have the next one up soon. Enjoy!**

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**Chapter Seven: Turning of the Wheels**

He wasn't particularly old, but his hair had started to turn the shade similar to that of the castle walls. In some places it was thinning, patches of bare skin showing through. And though his body was showing signs of the age, his mind was not.

Dressed in the brown robes similar to the fashion of priests he stood tall in the midst of the room, hands clasped in front of him, an even smile on his face. For though he resembled a priest in every manner, from sight to sound, he was anything but.

Vaysey watched him, a bland expression on his face, but inside his mind worked with the effort unmatched to any others. It was difficult to hold power; a wrong move could be your last. Trusting the wrong person, taking advice that was not in your best favor, or even eating the baked goods sent from a local baker could prove harmful in more ways than just one.

He had a status to uphold, a reputation. So when Guy of Gisborne had come to him with news of Robin Hood's capture, as well as the inkling of something misplaced, Vaysey had become creative. He was an expressive soul by nature. He preferred to experiment in many ways, turning even the most mundane of tasks into an exciting exhibition.

The doubts about Hood could be dismissed, ignored; once the man was dead, what did it matter? Yet Vaysey had wondered, knowing that it would be very intriguing if it were true. Though it had been his idea, Gisborne had seen it through. His loyal servant had chosen the most peculiar guard to do their bidding, and for once Vaysey felt the need to give him credit. The man was so convincing he probably believed that he was a priest himself.

The truth was he expected nothing. A ploy, a trap; Robin was toying with them once again. Unsurprising it would be; the man had done so often enough that Vaysey was expecting it more and more now. Therefore his mind had been busy when the aged guard had entered and started his spiel. Until he had spoken that one line; then Vaysey's attention was captured.

"Are you sure?"

It was the first time he had spoken since the man's arrival. Gisborne stood at the back of the room, watching and listening, but holding his voice as well. The guard disguised as a priest gave a nod, and then smiled. Near him was a physician, a man that Guy had bothered to bring along as well. At first it had struck him as odd, but now he knew why. If the physician hadn't been there already, he would be demanding one instantly.

"It is possible, my lord," the physician nodded, an eager smile on his face. Of course there would be; he was trying to win favor. It could be good; someone ambitious to serve was willing to do even the most unwanted of tasks. Yet Vaysey found it more irritating than anything else.

"Of course it is possible," he scowled, straightening in his chair. "It is possible that Robin Hood recognized you; it is possible he led us to believe this fairy tale. Why else would he sprout off such nonsense?"

"He did not," the aging guard shook his head. His smile was calm but unnerving at the same time. "He confessed to a few number of things, yet none of them made particular sense. Nor could he recall his name, or even the dungeon he was forced to remain in. He himself believes he is free from any wrongdoing, requesting to know what he had done to deserve such treatment."

"Hood has always believed himself above justice," Gisborne scoffed, his eyes narrowing at memories unseen by the others that surrounded him. "Why would he believe that he had done wrong now?"

"Silence, Gisborne," Vaysey cut him off, "you mew like an ingrate child. It's tiresome."

"With all due respect, my lord; while I have never treated such a case before my father has. I can assure that it has happened before; it was with a child."

The widening smile remained on the physician's face as he moved toward the center of the room. Until now, he had been standing in the back, no longer heeding the orders that had been given to him. Whether he cared about his head, or cared more about gaining favor was an amusing thought in Vaysey's mind. That was why he waved off Gisborne's attempt to draw the man back. Let him talk; perhaps he could be of some use.

"My father had said that she was a young girl, having just learned how to walk and speak. The villagers told him she had fallen from the town's mill when she and her brothers had tried to climb it. By the time he arrived the event had happened days ago. Poor child didn't even know her name; but not only that, the most peculiar thing was how she acted. One of the older children had apparently told her she was the new farm dog since the old one died last winter. Every evening she would run out after the livestock and yip like mongrel and chase the animals in circles."

"Rubbish," Gisborne broke the man's speech, a frown creasing his face. "Obviously your father was just making up stories; a sad feat now since you cannot obviously tell fact from fiction."

"Clam yourself," Vaysey warned him with a humored smile, "just because your daddy dearest didn't tuck you into bed at night is no reason to soil another man's reputation."

The physician let out a smile, turning back to face the front with a small bow. "Thank you, my lord. I do swear that all I have told you was true; my father was good with his work, but you cannot cure the work of the devil."

"Devil, you say?"

"That is what we believed; what else could cause such a change in a person save for the work of the devil?"

"Indeed," Vaysey agreed lightly, "so Hood has become cursed with the devil then? Or perhaps a blessing in disguise."

"Agreed," Gisborne spoke again. "Let us rid ourselves of him quickly and quietly. If he cannot remember, he has no reason to fight."

"You shame me, Gisborne," Vaysey responded with a whisper. "Why destroy something you can use? Did you not hear anything our friend has said?"

"I have," he replied, "but do you mean to tell me you plan on using Hood to round up the farmer's sheep? As amusing as that is I see little point in it otherwise."

"If a child can be made to believe that, then surely we can convince Hood that he is on our side. Why rid of one when we can rid of all?"

"A wonderful thought, my lord," the physician laughed. "I am most assured that I can be of service to you somehow. With my experience I am certain I can convince this outlaw of whatever you have in mind for him."

"He already believes me a priest," the guard spoke now, having kept silent throughout most of the discussion. "I will offer my services as well."

"Astounding offers," Vaysey clasped his hands, moving to his feet. His smile died then as he mused it over. The more tongues there were that knew about this, the less likely it would work. Yet that was something that could be remedied quickly.

"Of course we would have to make certain that no one made a mistake."

"There are only four of us who know, my lord," the physician pointed out, "surely we can keep to ourselves without any difficulties."

"Actually," Vaysey nodded to Gisborne, gaining the man's attention, "there are only two of us…who know."

* * *

They had come as close as they dared,to the last few lines of trees that kept Sherwood from going from a forest to clearing. Nottingham could be seen rising in the distance, the path well traveled as villagers walked to and fro, perhaps hoping for fair trade at the market or even a council from the sheriff, God help them. Will steadied his breath, pushing aside fear and doubt to clear his mind. They had to be careful now.

There was no doubt in his mind that every guard in Nottinghamshire was on the patrol for them. In times past, when it had been anyone else captured, the risk was not so great. It was easy to lie and fake; to pretend you were just another outlaw or simple thief. Guards would question themselves, and both the sheriff and Guy of Gisborne were too preoccupied to pay guessing games to whether or not they really were one of Robin's men.

Yet it was hard to hide the fact they had captured Robin. There would be no second guesses to whether or not it truly was him. There was always the chance he was already dead; but that seemed unlikely. Vaysey no doubt would want to make an example of the man; perhaps even wait for the rescue to come so he could capture all of them once and for all. No; the chances were that Robin was still very much alive. The condition was what truly scared Will.

It had happened, in a time not too long ago that they had abused him. The thought rested with him heavily now, sickening him. In his mind he could still hear the crack of the whip, the splitting of the skin. The muted cries burned in his ears as the blood did in his veins, a shiver running down his spine. There was no telling what they were doing to him now. Worse now; because if Robin truly did not remember, then there were no words he could utter to stop the torture.

Will turned as a hand rested on his arm, his eyes meeting Djaq's. There was a slight apology but he shook his head. The woman had no reason to apologize for none of this was her doing. Instead he cleared his throat, turning to the others. "Do we have a plan?"

"Yes," Much declared fiercely, "we get Robin out."

"Now why didn't I think of that," Allan mused, "in fact it sounds so simple I'll let you go in first, and get it done. Go on, the rest of us will wait right here for the two of you."

"Well, I don't see you coming up with anything."

"That's because I'm still thinking."

"This isn't helping," Will warned the pair, wishing then and there the two would for a even a moment oblige everyone and get along.

"Who knows what they're doing to him!"

The accusation from Much stung; mostly because the thoughts had already crossed his mind. Will had believed he had successfully banished them, but they were back with those simple words. "I know."

It was all he said, but it was enough. The group remained silent, the tension building with each passing breath. There must be something that they could do, but time was needed to formulate a plan and time was something precious they could not waste. If Robin was still alive then each passing moment lessened that chance. Come the morning he could be very well be led out for a public execution. It was Robin's specialty to wait till the last minute to pull off such a rescue feat; but it was too close for comfort for Will.

The last time they had seen Robin swing in the gallows, it had been nothing more than a ploy set up by Robin himself. Even as Will thought about it he could remember the only reason they had made it out alive was because of Robin; the very man they were trying to rescue.

Yet now they couldn't rely on Robin's wits. Or his skill…that all would be gone now that his memory seemed to be muddled, and his injury that had caused it was no great addition either. He could only mentally curse himself, knowing that this trouble could have been avoided if any of them had paid closer heed to Robin. But dwelling over the past could not change the future and if Robin knew that he was mourning over irreparable circumstances the man would never let him hear the end of it. Brooding saved no one.

"We need to do something," Much spoke out again. "I can't just sit here."

"What do you propose?" Allan wondered, "You want us to just march up to the castle and demand they release him?"

"Yes," Will answered before Much could even reply, leaving the man with his mouth hanging open. The answer garnered a volley of replies, ones that he was expecting. But he heeded none of them, smiling instead. "I think that's what we will do."

"I think he's gone and lost his mind as well," Allan shook his head as he turned to Djaq. "Is that sort of thing contagious? Are we all going to end up suicidal?"

"It'll work," Will pleaded, ignoring the earlier comments. "Think about it. They're expecting us to be crafty, to sneak our way in. They'll have every back entrance barred and every dark alley on guard. But the market's going today; they're expecting people to come and go to trade their goods to earn money to pay off taxes. That's the one thing the sheriff isn't going to stop. No money means no taxes."

"Fine plan," Allan scowled, "What happens when we demand that Robin be released? They'll kill us."

"That's when we'll have to be crafty. At the very least this plan will get us inside the castle walls. Unless someone else had a better plan I say we do this."

"Yes," Djaq agreed, "we do; but you do not."

Her sudden proposition surprised him. "I am coming."

"No," she shook her head. "You would draw too much attention. We cannot keep up with both you and Robin. And we'll need horses."

He wanted to argue; was about to. But the look on her face silenced him. She was offering another way in which he could help, but not the way he wished to do so. He knew it to be true; he could not support himself in a fight and would only be a hindrance to the others around him. Success would depend on luck as much as skill, and there was little skill he had to offer now.

"Fine." It was his only answer, and he could see she wanted more. A promise perhaps, but it wasn't one he was willing to give. She would have to be satisfied with that alone. It was Allan who broke the tension, moving to his feet and drawing up his hood.

"So, which of you lovely lads would enjoy taking a stroll in Nottingham on this fine day?"

"I'll stay with Will," John nodded to the others. "I'm easy to spot in a crowd; and how do you expect one man to hold six horses?"

"Well then gents, we have ourselves a little birdie to rescue."

* * *

"He had this."

The trinket was passed to him, grimy fingers relinquishing the prize woefully. Gisborne eyed the ring, a frown on his forehead, a curse working past his lips. Why the jailer hadn't bothered to show him earlier was beyond his comprehension, but there was more on his mind at the moment. He would question trivialities later.

He closed his fingers about the ring, fingers still supporting blood from the latest endeavor. Working for the Sheriff of Nottingham was not the cleanest of jobs, but Gisborne could not deny that it unsettled him. That very fact should have given him cause for concern, but he ignored the guilty conscience wafting up inside of him. If he was going to Hell then it wouldn't matter if he killed once or a thousand times. There was little that could save him now.

"I have business to attend with the prisoner and you will not interfere. If you have any concerns keep them to yourself, or forfeit your tongue."

The last had been according to Vaysey. The jailer was a slow and somewhat stupid man, but having had to replace one in the recent times was one too many for the sheriff. But he fathomed the idiot couldn't comprehend to what was being planned, and that was more in likely true given the man's nature. Still, a subtle threat always sealed the job quite well, and he noted admirably as the man paled at the instruction, and nodded mutely. At least he wasn't too stupid to follow orders.

He motioned for the man to follow, making his way down the stairs and descending into the infamous darkness that cast the dungeons into their dreary state. A mixture of rotten food and feces greeted him fiercely, watering his eyes and assaulting his nose. A few breaths later he had managed himself, acclimating to the pungent odor. Harsh as it was it was easy to get used to, even more so with frequent trips to the dungeon. There seemed to be more and more of those lately as thieves became more desperate and rash.

Coming to a stop in front of the cell, Gisborne had to force himself to wait in order to properly compose his stature. Greeting the man on the other side in a convivial nature was unknown to him. As far as he could remember the only terms the pair of them got along on was tolerance. Usually that only came under the eye of the public, and that was before Hood had ruined his reputation and marked himself as a thief. From the look in the man's eye Gisborne could assume the same was for him. The only difference now was that Hood could not remember a past. It was an advantage in his favor.

"Apologies for earlier," he started out, his voice low but he knew the man could hear him well. He knew because the look of irritation turned into one of confusion. "Yet you must understand I had little choice given the situation. You were informed of the risk of showing your face and yet you ignored it."

"What situation? What risk?"

Gisborne held out a hand, motioning for the other to keep his voice low. It was irritating, but he had to hide it, had to make it seem real. The other prisoners could not hear nor be aware of what was about to take place. The plan that Vaysey held could be disputed easily and readily. They had to play this carefully.

"The complications have been brought to our attention; your employer would appreciate an conference with you now."

He motioned for the keys, the jailer moving quickly to unlock the door. There was apprehension on his face but he wouldn't question anything; at least not with the threat of losing his tongue still on the line. The bolts slid from their place and the door swung open, Guy waiting, a hand hidden on the handle of his dagger should anything go awry. He still did not fully trust this plan.

But Robin had not moved. Instead he watched Guy with wary eyes, still seated against the back wall. "You mean to let me go? I may not remember much, but I do believe you were the one who put me in here in the first place. As well as the second time, if I do recall."

"It was a necessity," Guy reassured him, "one that will be explained to you, Robin of Locksley. Yet it is a matter that we cannot speak of down here. Your presence is urged elsewhere, come now."

"And what if you mean to kill me?"

"Then it would have already been done," Guy told him, dropping his hands. "If you prefer to remain in here, it will be so."

He turned to leave, but had yet to take a step when the response came. Quickly he shielded the smile that crossed his face. Another night in the dungeon would have done the man well, Guy mused. Another day to think, another day to suffer. Despite Vaysey's urge to wanting to put the plan into play. That would have been more for his own pleasure rather than anyone else's.

The sheriff was correct to be apprehensive. Hood's men could not be too far behind, and the dungeon would be the first place they would look. Joining Robin with his men once more would be the most difficult of tasks, but not any more so than first planting the seed of betrayal.

They passed by the jailer who watched with a muted expression, quick steps taking them away from the darkness. Robin kept stride with him, despite the heavy breaths. It was impressive; the fresh wound on his head was healing but it could not be too old, and given the quarters he had spent the passing day in as well as the lack of food it was a wonder to how he could still be at such a drive.

Robin was not weak though; Gisborne knew this for a fact. He had felt the fury of Robin's blade more than once, had seen how swiftly the man worked to dispatch enemies. There was hidden strength in his slender frame. And there still seemed to be a haughty pride locked in the man's demeanor. Was it possible for him to forget everything, and yet retain a similar appearance given the fact it had been ingrained into him for the entire span of his life?

Gisborne allowed him to slow, giving Robin the room to steady his pace as well as they moved along the corridor. Keeping a hand ever so hidden on the handle of his knife, Guy watched him warily out of the corner of one eye. He still did not fully trust Robin, and if the man had indeed fooled them, then his escape would be easy.

None of the guards had been alerted; no one in the castle had been. Only he and the sheriff knew of the plan now, the previous two had served their purpose, but keeping them around was only a call for betrayal. If this was to work then it all had to be done in secret. And if anyone stopped them, if anyone questioned, then they would face the same fate.

Or so he had thought. For rounding the corner then and there he felt his heart skip a beat and sink into his stomach. The ploy had been easy; killing was always easy when you didn't have a name or a face. But it was different when you not only knew the person…but loved that person as well.

Time had passed but it was not terribly late in the day, and Guy of Gisborne had used that to his knowledge. There was little chance of anyone interfering in their plans. There was no reason for him to suspect that she would be out. Yet she was.

Marian was moving down the corridor, not yet having noticed them. She was still dressed in the attire from the previous night, giving signal that sleep had evaded her as well. Guy forced himself to swallow the lump in his throat, his step lingering as he tried to work out any possible solution to avoid her.

She could not know what was happening. It was not a woman's place to know the details of the sheriff and his business, but neither could he risk letting her slip something that would possibly inform Locksley of incorrect details. He was about to turn, to hurry Robin off down another turn, but it was too late. She had already caught sight of them.

Her expression was one of confusion. He was hesitant, but he let it pass. Why should she be anything other than confused? She knew that Robin was a common criminal, and yet here he walked free. Then there was concern in her face. Gisborne chose to take that she was worried he may try to harm her in exchange to go free. There had always been lingering evidence that Marian supported Hood…but he had chosen to ignore those signals as well. Marian had a heart for anyone and everyone; she was a good woman, even if she was a bit foolish.

"Sir Guy, what is going on?"

He let himself smile at that. She hadn't bothered to address the man at his side, which was a promise in itself. She held herself a distance away, fingers clutching her sleeve as she glanced between the two of them.

"A simple matter of business, do not trouble yourself, Marian. I would bore you with the details."

They would do anything but. More than once Marian had expressed her concern about political matters, doing her best to understand them. Usually Guy humored her, finding his own amusement in her curiosity. Perhaps that was why he liked her so. She did not back down just because one asked her to.

"Robin…"

"Has business with the sheriff, as do I. He is expecting us now," Guy told her shortly, cutting her off. He could not risk her to say anything more. He reached with one hand, pushing Robin to get him moving again. As for now the man had just stared at her. How long would it be before he asked questions?

Robin started moving, although reluctantly. Twice he glanced back at the figure that stood behind them, watching them perplexingly. "Who is she?"

"A castle servant," Guy answered quickly, finding mirth in the question. If Robin did not remember who she was, then surely he would not remember the relationship they once held. It could not be more than perfect. A sweet victory he could hold dauntingly over Robin's head without any fear of repercussions morally or physically.

Robin tarried only a moment longer before turning front again as they moved around the corridor. Guy let out a thankful sigh of relief, grateful that she had not tried to follow or question more. He would not do her any harm, despite what the sheriff had said. "Tell no one you have seen her. This is an affair privy to only a select few," he warned quietly.

This strange roll of being a protector and guider was surprisingly becoming easier as it went along. At first Guy had loathed it; wanting no more than to cast Robin out to the gallows come the stroke of noon. But he could not go against the sheriff's wishes. Time; Vaysey had promised him in time. They would see all of the outlaws dead given time. They only needed the patience to see everything through.

**TBC**


	8. A Devious Plan

**Thanks goes out to Kegel for her help in making this chapter complete. Hope you all enjoy!**

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**Chapter Eight: A Devious Plan**

She had forgotten about him for a time. Upon arriving in Nottingham her attention had been occupied by Guy and the events that had occurred during her absence. Learning the truth from him only seemed to make it all the more real. Why she had taken Guy's word over it rather than Robin's she could never truly say. Part of her, she supposed, still wanted to believe it had all been incidental. Yet she had seen the damage herself. Or what little remains of the damage that was left. Her home was gone.

The sheriff had been _kind _enough to let her stay. It was a mocking kindness, however; one he did only out of amusement for himself. It was an offer she couldn't rightly refuse. Most of the people she had befriended in her father's village were either dead from the attack that fated night, or had moved on to other villages. She knew of no one that would be willing to lend a hand, and she could not blame them. Many families were still struggling to feed themselves, let alone a stranger.

There was safety in the castle, however perverse that notion was. It had been Robin that warned her against coming, but what the man failed to realize was the relationship she held with Guy. True that their last parting had not been on the best of terms, but she was holding to the hope that Guy would not cross her for fear of losing her altogether once more. For the time, it seemed to be working.

And she needed it to work; simply because she missed being here. Missed fighting in the war against poverty, missed being the Nightwatchman. Would people even welcome the phantom back? It had been years since he had last treaded on these grounds. If she did choose to bring him back, where would she have to hide? Certainly not under Guy's watchful eyes. Even if she did find a way to hide, how obvious would it be? With the departure and arrival of the Nightwatchman identical to hers? She was beginning to fear that her old life could no longer take place in the way she had imagined it.

That was when she had seen him. The very man she had seen the morning before spread out on the forest floor unaware of what was going on around him. Now he was here, in the castle, at the hands of another man that wanted him dead. But how, and why, these questions remained unanswered. For Guy had not said anything of Robin and had been gone only a short time the afternoon before.

This led her to assume that Robin had come to Guy. Not the other way around; but if so, why had the others let him do so? He could be headstrong, and a downright jerk at times, but even during those times the others knew well enough to not let him come alone if at all. Something had gone wrong, or so her assumption had been. That was when she saw he walked freely, void of any bonds or threat. She searched his eyes, hoping for a signal, a nod or a wink to reassure her all was well.

There was nothing. A glaze of confusion and wonderment in his eyes as well as his face as they moved by with little delay. Guy betrayed nothing as well, and Marian stood rooted to her spot watching them move on with little hesitation. Something was wrong; she could feel it like a chill deep inside her bones. Quickly and quietly, with the grace of the Nightwatchman learned over the years she strode along the corridor. Marian made sure to keep far enough behind so they could not see her, catching glimpses of them as they turned the corners.

With the rising of the sun the columns passed shadows on the stone before her, giving her adequate shelter to hide her features. At the last turn she came to a pause, rounding the corner just in time to see the heavy doors close. It was left unguarded, and she could only assume that whatever was happening was meant to be secret from all prying eyes and ears. Yet that would not stop her.

Robin was in danger. He would not kill Gisborne, for that task was an easy feat away from the castle and in the safety of the forest. Why the man had come here was beyond her comprehension, but she was not enjoying how the scenario was playing out in her head.

Glancing about her, she moved quietly, edging towards the wooden door that had been open just moments ago. It was quiet in the morning, which made the voices easy to hear from the other side. They were still muffled and indistinguishable, but she could tell there was more than just the pair inside. Who else could be involved? The sheriff without a doubt. Guards perhaps? There was no way of telling, not from the distance. She pursed her lips, pressing her slender frame against the door.

The wood was chilled in the early morning air, rough with splinters as she pressed her ear to the side. It was still the same, the mumbling of sounds echoing off the chamber inside. None of the words themselves could be heard. It drew from her an irritated sigh. Hearing alone would do her no service. She needed to see with her own eyes, she needed to be inside. In her gut she knew something was wrong. Robin could be killed, could be tortured, or worse. If there was a worse.

Getting inside would prove difficult. This was they only way into the hall commonly used for feasting and other varied events, but the large wooden door would heave upon opening and betray her location. Still she had to try, for Robin's life could very well depend on it. And Marian knew, in her heart, that Robin would do the same for her if their positions were reversed.

* * *

No sooner had he been inside than the smells assaulted his nose. A fragrance of spices and herbs, the mouthwatering aroma of meat turning his stomach with a sharp pain as it realized its emptiness. He was starving.

Robin no longer cared what this man in black had to say; he no longer remembered the fair maiden that gazed upon him with worry. He no longer remembered the fearful sensation of not knowing who he was. All he wanted was food. To sup until he could do so no more, to feel sick even from consuming too much at once. Anything and everything laid before him on the table was tantalizing, beckoning him closer.

A hand stopped him from doing so. The man at his side…Sir Guy, was watching him with a frown, before nodding over his shoulder. Robin's attention was drawn away from him to the newcomer, a shorter man with a crooked smile, supporting a nearly balding head. His hands were held up and out to his side as he strode near, showing good intentions.

" Robin of Locksley," the man grinned. "It is good to see that you are well. I was afraid our boys in the dungeon were a little…rough with you. My apologies. I do hope everything is forgiven."

He was waiting for an answer, one that Robin returned with a nod after a passing moment. While it might be argued that Guy had caused some difficulties, no true harm had come to him. Guy had lightly explained his reasonings for what he had done, but not fully. It left him to wonder.

"I'm afraid I cannot say that I remember you. I seemed to have run into some…difficulties."

"This is Sheriff Vaysey of Nottingham," Guy spoke then, motioning for him to take a seat. "He is the employer I spoke of before. You were under orders to not show yourself in the villages for your safety and your safety alone. Standing out against the guards is a death sentence, and showing favor for anyone, let alone yourself would destroy the mission. You must understand that I acted as I must."

"Mission?" the confusion was clear in his voice, but then why wouldn't it be? If he could remember nothing of who he was, why would he remember anything else of importance? "What mission?"

"Details," the sheriff nodded towards, moving to take a seat at the large table that was adorned with food. "We will discuss that soon enough, but come and sit. You must be hungry."

He was. Robin let himself wander towards the food, ignoring the uneasy feeling that was brewing inside of him. He had held that feeling for as long as he could remember; which wasn't exactly a feat for his condition at the moment. Paranoia had set in, had tested him, and Robin was trying to convince himself that everything was going to be okay. These men seemed to know who he was, had offered to help him…and feed him.

And the food…the food was heavenly. The meat tender and moist, juice dribbling off his chin as he took one bite after another, the sweetness of the fruits contrasting with the bitterness of the nuts and grains. Each food was like a new sensation, feeling as though he had it long ago but never really remembering it. His body craved more and so he kept on, washing the meal down with draughts that were served to him without question.

The uneasy feeling wavered, disappeared, leaving him content and relaxed with these newfound friends. The talk was light, so light that Robin barely heard a word, and didn't even know if the conversation was directed towards him. But as the food diminished, and reality slowly sunk back in, he began to listen.

His head was no longer pounding, and his stomach had untied itself from any prior knots. Robin could hear the words that were spoken, understand some of them, but for the conversation itself he hadn't any idea of what it could be. Business of some sort, no doubt, a talk of taxes, and the mentioning of names that he could not place with faces.

Another draught was passed his way, and Robin took a sip, savoring the heavy flavor before setting the cup back on the table. Here he leaned forward, clearing his throat to catch the attention of the other two men. Though he didn't want to seem inhospitable, questions were nagging at his mind, and he wanted answers. Though there was still caution in his mind, he was hopeful it would fade once he began to figure things out.

"As strange as this question may seem, it is something I must know. So tell me, who am I?"

"Robin of Locksley," Guy was the one to answer, "better known as Robin Hood to most, however."

"Robin Hood?" he frowned, thinking the name over. It felt right, sounded right on his lips. But to him it meant nothing. "I beg your pardon, but I do not understand. The name alone tells me nothing."

"It is what many of the villagers call you. You see, you were born in Locksley Village, and resided there as the Lord of the Manor after your father's death," Guy continued, "then you left to serve King Richard in the Crusades in the Holy Lands for a time before returning home."

_The Crusades…flashes in mind of a rolling and burning land, dry and hot to the extremes, the shouts of comrades in battle, the clashing of swords. The rush of adrenaline as they won another battle. The King, a fair man with blonde hair speaking with him, remarking on his skill with a bow. _

That much he could remember, he had fought alongside the king, had been in his private guard…so that was where he had learned to fight. He glanced from one man to the other, the pair watching him, as if judging him. Robin swallowed, nodding, allowing them to continue.

"England has had some difficulties since the king has gone away," the sheriff explained. "War is expensive, money for weaponry, and food to feed the armies, among other things. And do the people here care? They do not. They do not wish to support their king. They hide their money, claim they have none, that they are poor. The truth, dear Robin, is that they are greedy, and selfish."

"How do you know that they are?" Robin wondered, trying to imagine the difficulty it would take to hide one's money and pretend one was poor instead. "Perhaps they tell the truth."

"What any reasonable man would think," the man nodded towards him. "At unfortunate times we have been forced to search houses and premises, and have turned up the money they owe. You knew this, upon your return. You sensed it as well as I did. Peasants were stealing to further themselves, not caring about anyone else. You saw this, and it angered you. For years you had served the King of England, risked your life and saved his. And none of the people at home even cared. You abandoned everything that was yours, your home, your title, and your lands. You came to me in the midst of the darkness one night so long ago…pledging your services to me."

"If I was so angered, then why would I have done this in secret?"

"To prevent a public uproar, of course. Your peasants were grateful for your return, had hoped you'd spare them from having to pay taxes, prevent them from having to support a king they did not like. They did not agree with what he was doing, and believed you felt the same as they did. That is why you kept your wishes secret. If you support the king as I do so openly they will turn against you," the sheriff shrugged his shoulders as if it were no prying detail.

"They saw you as a hero when you pretended to stand against me. They are a foolish lot and you knew they would trust too readily when you openly defied authority. That was our plan, of course. They would lie to Guy of Gisborne as well as me to spare their selfish selves. But they would trust you…you who stood against the sheriff. You used that knowledge to gain information, to learn of their secrets and betrayals. Over a time now we've been able to…purge the villages of those that were plotting against the crown."

"That was why you couldn't stay in Locksley, because then they would know we were working together. They would wonder why I never sent guards after you, or claimed your estates as my own."

"Where do I stay then?" Robin's mind was a rush of memories, collected earlier in the day before. Perhaps that was what had happened, perhaps these men knew his secret, perhaps they were trying to kill him…

"We do not know, necessarily," Guy commented. "You keep to the forest with a group of men, all of them thieves in their own way. More than once we have tried to rid ourselves of these vermin, but the trees of Sherwood hide them all too well. While we wanted these men dead you did refuse; there was safety in numbers and you convinced the sheriff and I that you would finish them off when the time was right. Obviously we couldn't send a group of guards with you to live out in the forest. Who would trust you then?"

"You see," Vaysey cleared his throat, "we had to create a ploy, to show the people of Nottingham and the surrounding shires that you would openly defy us. So that there was no way they could question to where your loyalties were. I sentenced to death several men from your village for a crime they had committed. You saved their lives, and they unwittingly followed you. Ready to repay the debt they owed you."

_The apprehension was great, his heart skipping a beat as he watched the man in the shadows. The drums were sounding and the nooses were being tightened. He gave a nod and the man jumped forward, calling for everything to be stopped. The men were under protection of the church…they could not hang. _

Robin knew the plan had been his; he had worried that it wouldn't work. The more he thought about it, the more the memories came slipping back.

_They could not become novices of the church in a single night. How could he have known that someone educated about such matters would be present? What was he to do? He had to save these men…_

Why did he have to save them? While Robin could imagine that no one wished to die it was a simple fact of life. They had committed a crime…of whatever nature. Surely it was a just punishment. Then Robin could remember the man he shot, and a pang of guilt soared through him. What punishment would be suitable for him?

"We never expected you to earn the favor of the men in the forest, but somehow you did. We could have questioned your loyalties for sure when you refused the order to kill them. But you proved yourself, using these men to rob unwary travelers and free them of their purses. You then gave that money to the villagers, sneaking to the castle in the night to inform us that they indeed have the money. It helps reduce the need for constant searches. Most men part with stolen goods easier than earned ones. For the others, this is how we know when they lie and say they have no money. This is how we know who is loyal to the king and who is not."

_Ambushes had to be planned carefully; there was no telling how many would ride on a path, or how strong they would be. Sometimes the soldiers would outnumber them…_

"We rob men…and guards," Robin spoke slowly, knowing the words were true. But why would he rob soldiers if he was truly on their side? Would that not only complicate things?

"Of course," the sheriff smiled at him. "What would the outlaws say, the people think, if you only robbed from unsuspecting travelers? You are pretending to be against us; if you allowed the soldiers to go through unharmed then they would question you. Your secret would be out. The men would not let you live if they knew of your secret."

"They would kill me?"

The man nodded, a grim expression on his face. "Death is the price we must all pay for carelessness. They would not take to it well if they found you were working against them all. That is why you cannot tarry any longer. These men need to be disposed of before they find out your secret. Then we would have the whole of Nottingham against us. We do not want that. You must kill them."

"I don't…"

"Do not be a fool," Guy scolded him. "These men are dangerous criminals. If they knew of your true intentions they would not only kill you, but torture you. They are a vicious lot. Do you have any idea of how many men they have murdered? Guards that were simply doing their jobs, their lives lost. Fathers, sons, brothers…a terrible crime."

"Then…why have I not…killed them already? Why would I wait?"

Robin wanted to know this more than anything. His earlier thoughts had been with him. Perhaps he had been right about the man, perhaps he had been correct to fear him.

"A question we have asked more than once. You claimed it was to help the king, claimed you were biding your time," Vaysey frowned at him. "Yet more and more I am beginning to question where your true loyalties lie. I've come to wonder if you truly have sided with them?"

"I don't…I don' t know," Robin confessed. In the forest he had felt so…apprehensive, so confused. But since coming here he had remembered more of his life than he had in his short wanderings. These men knew who he was, had been answering his questions, had provided him with food and beverage. They had cared for him…

"If that were the case…" the sheriff took a breath, "it would be most unfortunate for you."

"I would say with all truth I have not. If I had…why would I have run from them?"

"True," the man nodded, but he seemed to be still considering something. "If only there was a way you could prove yourself. I can't allow you to go free if you are indeed a traitor. You would go back to your men, tell them everything, plot against us. Who knows what would happen?"

"How would I prove myself?" Robin ventured, leaning forward. The last place he wanted to go was back to the dungeons. He wanted to show that he was true, that his word meant something. Why he wasn't sure, but the thought of someone not believing his word was somehow unsettling.

"The sheriff employed a man a few days back. He was hired to spy on you and your men. You had not come to us for some time, and we believed you were going to betray us," Guy explained. "He is an expensive quandary. Meant to kill you and the others if it proved true. Of course we know now why you were not able to return; only God knows how you ended up with your wound. One of them, no doubt. But we are grateful for it because it means you have not betrayed us."

"Circumstances of course have left us a little short of change," Vaysey picked up where he left off. "This man is not loyal like you are, and only comes to fatten his purse. We need to be rid of him. Quickly and silently. No one must know."

"You want me to kill him?"

"An assassin for an assassin," the sheriff laughed at his own joke. "Only you do the bloody favors to help your king and country. He does it for himself. The money could be used to help the king…taxes that peasants worked and sweated for. We cannot just send him away. Surely he would kill the both of us, and Nottingham would be the one to suffer for it. You do not want innocent people to suffer, do you, Robin?"

"No," he answered calmly. He did not want that. Somehow he knew that was why he was doing this, why he was fighting. The idea of killing made him feel…strange, squeamish almost. But he had been in war; sometimes you had to kill because there was no other way.

Guy stood then, producing a knife from his belt, the handle held out towards him. Hesitantly he took the blade, turning it over in his hand. It was small, light in weight, and fairly plain. The blade was ragged, but still sharp to the touch, ready to do the job.

"You'll have to take care to not be seen. Anyone would expect for you to be in the dungeons, and no doubt your men are on their way to 'rescue' you as we speak. You'll have to hurry. If they find you wandering free, or in our company, all of our work will be wasted. I'll call the guards and keep them busy with one errand or another, but the rest will be up to you."

Robin nodded, sliding the knife into his belt. Somehow he felt that wouldn't be much of a problem. "Where do I go?"

* * *

All of this felt familiar; in his mind he hadn't a real clue to where he was going, but somehow his body knew what steps to take. They echoed in the chamber behind him, betraying his location to those who would listen closely enough. Yet there was no one there; as Guy had promised the guards had been drawn away, and thus far Robin had yet to meet anyone on his path.

His head was still awash with memories, however fragile they were. It was as though he was peering through a murky window aged with the residue of dust over the years. He caught faint glimpses, but never enough to learn the entire story. What he did remember was some of what the men had told him. Precise memories of something or someone, memories that explained certain qualities he had.

At the corner of the next turn he paused, resting against a wall. What if they were wrong? All he knew…was what these men had said. All he could rely on was their word. And he could not tell if their word was one to be trusted or not. Were his memories true? Or simply visions he wanted to be true? Robin let out a sigh, drawing the knife from his belt.

Earlier it was no burden, but now it felt as though he barely had the strength to hold it. He was being sent to take the life of another, for reasons Robin could not justify. Inside his stomach turned, knotting painfully. Was it fear of doing the act, or fear of failing in it? He wetted his lips, sheathing the knife as he started moving once more.

Somehow he had lost the trust of these men. If they were indeed a threat to him, surely they would have already killed him. They were trying to give him a chance to redeem himself, to prove his loyalty. It made him wonder what had been done before, what could have happened to cause the loss.

Had he tried to betray the sheriff and his king? Had he turned against them? He couldn't say, but he could remember the fear he felt as he fled the forest. Why would he fear someone that was truly an ally?

Robin felt the dread fill him as he came to a stop. He hadn't betrayed them. They had betrayed him. The men of the forest had poisoned his mind. Had tried to convince him to turn against the king. They knew, he thought dismally, they knew to who his loyalties were. That was why they had attacked him, why they had followed him. That was why they wanted him back.

The anger grew in him like a silent storm, forcing him to bite his lip to keep his frustration at bay. If he had ever felt a bond or connection to them before he knew there could never be one now. The sheriff expected him to return to the forest once this mission was complete, but Robin knew he would not stay. He could not let anyone take a second chance to try and kill him.

With a determined breath he pulled free the knife, slipping down the last corridor. By now morning was well past, and the sun threw shadows amongst the stone, giving him plenty of opportunities to hide. Which he did often. There was a nagging feeling, one so far in the back of his mind that he chose to ignore. Yet he couldn't help but think that someone was following him.

The times he did check he saw nothing but the patterns of sun and shade stretching down the length of hall behind him. Soon he stopped checking altogether, his mind focused on what was before him. The sheriff had warned him to take caution; the assassin was a dangerous man, the very reason for his hire. He was good at what he did.

The thought had disheartened him at first; they were simply going to send him to his death. But Guy had encouraged him. He was good at what he did, too. That was the reason for the need of such skill. Yet even armed with the knife Robin felt skeptical. He had inquired to the reason of why he hadn't just been sent away.

The answer was obvious; the man would request the money. Most likely he would kill them all as well. A private assassin had no rules but his own since he worked alone. The money rightfully belonged to the king and his war. The same war that Robin had fought in. The money would get there.

Pausing outside the door Robin brought the blade up near his face, pressing it flat against his lips as he let out a little prayer. Why he had done so he wasn't sure, but it was instinctive and the feeling that fled through his veins afterwards only encouraged him.

The door heaved, swinging open enough to allow him to pass through. He did so, closing the opening behind him so the room was cast back into candlelight. It took a moment to adjust to the changes about him, but he could see the man shortly after.

At first all he could was stare. There some something familiar about the man, but Robin couldn't place what or where. The sheriff had admitted the man was hired to track him through the forest; perhaps they had met already…

"You never learn, do you?" the man asked coldly. He had been standing in the midst of the room near the bed, and his posture had never changed even upon his entrance. Robin swallowed, watching him. Why did he seem so familiar? Obviously the man knew him, he could tell by the way he spoke.

"It seems the sheriff no longer desires your services," Robin started, trying to shake off the uneasy feeling. "If you value your life more than your possessions I urge you to leave now."

Why he was offering the man a chance to leave was a mystery to him. Yet somehow it felt right. If the sheriff and Guy could give him another chance to live, then surely this man deserved it as well. He wasn't sure if he was expecting the man to agree to the terms or not.

"My services do not end prematurely," the man warned him, leaning over the bed. He had reached under the mattress with one hand, pulling free a sword. It was nearly twice as long as Robin's small knife, foreboding in the dim light. "However, it seems as your life will."

Robin was moving even before the blade fell, twisting free from the man's reach. His body was following a dance, a pattern of moves that he did not even know, ducking and dodging the timed swings. The length of the man's blade kept him far enough away that he was unable to deal a single blow of his. It was a game of cat and mouse; and he was the mouse. Being toyed with, to tire him out.

That wouldn't take long. Already Robin's breath came in hurried gasps, his head growing dizzy at the sudden and constant motions. He wasn't in much of a position to fight, and yet he could not leave. Perhaps coming here hadn't been the best of ideas. Perhaps he should have just left, seeking out a new life of his own. But where would he have gone?

Stepping back he found himself pressing against a table, knocking over a chair as he stumbled out of the way of yet another blow. His legs became entangled in the overturned furniture, bringing him to the floor. The knife was lost from his hand, skittering across the floor. Above him the flash of light caught off sword as it came down.

The blade hit wood, burying deep into the chair in the same place Robin had been moments before. It would have killed him, had contact been made, the power behind the blow powerful enough to cleave a man in half. Instead it had nearly done so to the chair, and now was embedded as a result.

He used the opportunity, kicking out, knocking the man off balance. The knife was within his reach now, Robin scrambling on hands and knees over to the fallen blade. The man was behind him, forgetting the sword and pulling free a dagger as he came at a run. Hurriedly Robin reached out, fingers closing around the blade as the shadow fell over him, the sight of the dagger coming for his chest.

**TBC**


	9. The Choices We Make

Sorry for the long time inbetween updates, I have been extremely busy between work, family, holidays, events and more so. I haven't had much time to write. Many thanks goes out to those who are still with me, and to my beta who put up with the mess that this was so that I could finally post it. Enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter Nine: The Choices We Make**

The food was tantalizing, but Guy of Gisborne had yet to touch a single morsel. Too long he had been with the Sheriff of Nottingham to not know of his tricks and deception. There was no telling which, if any, of the foods were safe to eat. They had carried a conversation whilst Robin had fed himself like a starved animal, the sheriff picking morsels of food from his own private plate that had already been adorned with food prior to their arrival.

Now he was hungry himself, but Gisborne held the discomfort at bay. Already he had gone, had given the guards a pointless mission as instructed. What help it would do he could not be sure. Hood had always been able to slip past them without any help. Vaysey had mentioned that it was for show, had badgered him with the question of what would happen if Robin didn't believe they were on his side.

"It won't work," Gisborne said coyly, breaking the silence that hung in the room. "You hired that man because of his skill, so that he could kill Hood and his men. What reasoning do you hold that Robin will be able to best him?"

"Patience, Gisborne," the sheriff answered, reaching over the table to grasp an apple. The dark red of the skin was inviting, Vaysey rubbing it against his cloth for a moment so that it would shine. "We could very well be sending Hood to his death, which was our original intent. If he does manage to win, then we have ourselves a very…useful ally. Either way we win."

He finished his statement with a firm bite to the apple, a smile on his face. Guy's own expression was a stark difference, one of confusion and alarm. "The food? You didn't poison it?"

"And take the chance of ruining a perfectly good plan?" the sheriff smiled at him. "You think too simple."

The sheriff took another large bite, letting out a sigh of contentment that infuriated Guy. Perhaps at times his plans were simple; but they were always finished. It was easier to skewer a man who might be innocent, than it was to allow a possible threat to live so that they could strike another day.

The problem the sheriff had, the reason why Robin and his men were still alive was the simple fact of the man's need to toy with his prey. Time after time it was one elaborate plan after another, each one being proclaimed as fail proof. And each time they were proved wrong. Guy would gladly speak up to rid them of this nuisance, but at the same time he valued his reputation far too much. As he did his head.

Irritated he reached over and snatched an apple from the same bowl, his stomach protesting with similar anger for missing the morning meal. He didn't bother with cleaning it first as Vaysey had, simply taking a large bite, nearly straight to the core, a rush of juice pouring from the fresh hole.

"I would be careful with the green ones," Vaysey warned him quietly.

Almost immediately he seized up, spitting the piece out as he clutched his throat with a hand, coughing and retching as he spat the flavor from his mouth. "You poisoned it!"

A swirl of emotion ran through his mind, of anger not only at the sheriff but at himself for believing the words of the man. Of course he would have poisoned the food, just not all of it. Only certain bits and pieces. Hood would have realized something was amiss by the flavor, would have stopped eating if all of it was tainted. But a single item, a single piece even…

"Get a hold of yourself, Gisborne, you are an embarrassment."

He felt his cheeks redden, his heart still pounding in his chest, the bitter taste still in his mouth. Gisborne kept a hand pressed against his chest, as if encouraging his body to keep breathing. "But the apple…you said…"

"I was simply going to say the green ones tend to be a bit sour."

He was being toyed with, once again. The fury was real, but even more real was the humiliation. It was infuriating on how easy it was to become so riled. Yet one could never be too careful, or too sure when around the sheriff. The man had a mind of his own, worked under his own will with no direction from others. Gisborne half suspected the man would try and poison him just to gain some amusement, even if it meant the loss of his loyal charge.

He spat again, trying to clear his mouth of the taste, kicking the discarded apple to one side. His cheeks still burnt in humiliation, his heart still racing. Inside he was still worried, deeply troubled that the fruit had indeed been poisoned, and the sheriff was simply playing another game within his twisted mind.

As if reading his thoughts, Vaysey smiled, waving a hand. "You should try the prunes next. I hear they have a splendid flavor."

Gisborne frowned, a grunt escaping his lips as he stood. He needed to leave, for his sake as much as the sheriff's. He was close to acting out in rage, and losing favor with the man that could take his head with a single command was never a promising deal. It was one of his greatest downfalls, he knew. The power that Vaysey held over him.

"Where are you going?"

"I need air," Gisborne answered, moving up the stairs, "to cleanse myself of this stench in here."

"Well, leaving won't help much," the man countered, reaching for another apple. For a moment he paused, then selected a light green one from the bowl. He took a bite, a smile crossing his lips as he chewed, proving the fruits to be fine and free of any taint.

"A bath…now that might help. Choose yourself a couple of wenches from the inn to help you. Or maybe the Lady Marian would be willing to oblige."

Gisborne turned, anger in his voice at the grizzly suggestion. "You leave Marian out of this. She is of no concern of yours."

"Temper, Gisborne, temper," the man smiled, a grin displaying a single missing tooth. "Now tell me, wasn't she supposed to be your wife?"

"We had an agreement. An agreement that I broke, under your suggestion. For that I almost lost her. I will not do so again."

"And what do you suppose she's going to do? That she's going to become your wife? After you chased her from her home and burnt her house to the ground? When I suggested gifts, I did not mean to adorn her with ashes of her past."

"I was angry," Gisborne defended himself, but already his voice was faltering. "After all that she promised me, she betrayed me."

"You allow her to get away with betrayal . You are too soft," Vaysey scolded him.

"No," he shook his head. "She betrayed me because I betrayed her. We made each other a promise. And I took that promise away. Something I should have never done."

"You make a woman your wife; you do not allow them to parade around you and declare what they are going to do. A woman is very much like a horse…they all need to be broken."

"I care for her."

Gisborne's voice was strong, echoing in the chamber. If it was threatening to the other man, he would never know. Vaysey showed no signs of remorse in his expression. Gisborne took a breath, shaking his head. "I do not want to break her; I will not."

"Then you will lose her."

"No," he shook his head. "She will come to me in time."

"You have a foolish notion about women."

"And what would you know," Gisborne asked coldly, a hand on the door as he moved to leave. "What would you know, when you yourself have never had a woman before?"

* * *

There was never a chance for her. With each try she was shooed away, guards and servants alike moving in the halls. And the courage it would take to try and slip in unseen was fading with each passing moment. For the first time in what she could ever remember, Marian found herself at a loss.

The months she had spent away in the safety of another village had left her aching for her life as it once was. She had craved the adventure, the need to help others; to move as the Nightwatchman. Now it was her chance, to do what she had been yearning for, to help Robin on his quest, and yet she could not even move. It was a hopeless feeling.

She hid herself in the shadows, calming her breaths as the last of the guards disappeared around the corner. She knew that if she was to do anything, it needed to be soon. It was as she was gathering the last of her courage that the door opened. For a moment her heart stopped beating, her breath catching in her throat as she peered through the opening, trying to see who it was. Then it was as if all time stopped.

It was not Robin; the very man she had hoped it to be. For if it were Robin that would mean he was alive and well, able to fight or bargain his way out. But to see Guy of Gisborne standing there, his frame moving out into the hall, crushed her every hope. What had they done to Robin?

Marian knew she should leave, that now was the time to disappear. How could she face him again with all that he had done? His forcing her into a false marriage, the burning of her house, Robin's fate…she had to find out what had happened to the man.

Her feelings for him were no secret in her mind. It was a subject she treaded carefully when around others, for openly loving an outlaw would declare herself one as well, and she would face the same fate. She would be forced to flee; any chance at helping Robin and his men succeed in their fight would fail.

The door had been left open, a perfect opportunity to sneak in. Marian knew she could not let it go to waste. If anything had happened to the man it was up to her to discover for herself, and bring the news to the others waiting somewhere outside the walls of the castle.

But even rising from her spot had brought her to another halt. Another form had appeared, slowly and cautiously like the one before. The shadows still hid her well and Marian forced herself to still, holding her breath. Yet it wasn't needed, for it was gone from her chest entirely the next moment.

Robin moved cautiously out into the corridor, watching the way Gisborne had gone. He stood there for the briefest of times, then turned, even before Marian could utter a single word. Whatever motivation she had had before was now back, full in force and urging her to follow. It was not a request she had to question. Marian knew the castle almost as well as Robin did, and knew how to travel without being seen.

Where he was going she couldn't tell. The routes for the best escape were all passed without even so much as a second glance. His long stride, and hurried pace made it difficult for someone like her to keep up. Each time she rounded a corner, there was only the faintest of glimpses of his retreating form. Where ever he was headed, it was not out of the castle. It was up. He was crossing the stairwells, the echo of his steps reverberating in the halls below.

And she continued to follow. She could have easily called out to him; there were no others in the halls. Yet perhaps that was the very thing that tipped her off. Before there had been at least a dozen. Now the corridors were empty, filled only with the sounds of the movements of the pair.

Several times she found herself come to a stop when Robin did. As much as she wanted to be with him, something in her didn't feel right. The fact Gisborne and Robin were unharmed after being in the room together was an indication, but Robin's movement alone shed some doubt still lingering in her mind.

It was there she saw him enter the chamber, the heavy door closing behind him with a thud. What he could be doing was a mystery to her; there was no way out of there save for the way he had gone in. Likewise she had not heard of any visitors to the castle. What could have prompted him to enter?

She moved forward, checking her surroundings as she did so. If anyone found her this far up, there would be no amount of words that could save her. The top level was not one that someone just wandered out of boredom. Yet it was as quiet as the other halls had been, the uneasy feeling in her dissipating but being replaced by a whole new worry.

Her hand reached out, resting against the door, pushing against it gently. It stirred under her touch, telling her that it had not been locked. It was then she heard the voices, the clash of metal. There was no more waiting, no more guessing what was happening.

With a heave Marian pushed through the door, quickly taking in the scene before her. Furniture was strewn about, splinters of wood decorating the floor, and two men struggling in a heap on the floor. Robin was on his back, pinned by the other, struggling to free himself.

Neither of the two paid any heed to her entrance, something that could be seen as a simple blessing. Marian did not take time to ponder over it, racing over the stone. This high in the castle proved to be more of a loft than anything else, rafters hanging within easy reach even for someone of small stature. It provided the perfect grip, small hands locking onto one of the beams overhead as she swung her weight.

It was easy after that. She came alive, the blood and courage of her past encounters racing through her veins, her movements fluid from the teachings she had received as a child. While it was difficult to tell if she was suitable for war, hand to hand combat was of no hardship. It came as easy to her as breathing.

The blow of her weight, the force of her momentum, was enough to knock the man to the side. Robin didn't even glance her way, rolling free and grabbing the small knife that was discarded on the floor. Marian watched only long enough to ensure that he was able to make it to his feet, turning to dodge the next blow aimed at her.

Twice more she turned and twisted, avoiding the deadly blade held by the strange man. Her only freedom to rest came from Robin, who drew the man's attention away, enticing him with verbal taunts. She hardly paid it any heed; it was not the first time Robin had let his mouth do most of the work in a fight. For her silence was not only a virtue, but a necessity. Letting even a single word slip while dressed as the Nightwatchman could be deadly.

Back turned, Marian once again jumped for the rafters, kicking out as she swung, aiming now for the man's head. The blow was hard enough to make him stumble, not enough to knock him out, but it was enough for Robin to finish bringing him down. She yelled at him to do so, letting herself drop back to the floor, ready to bring a fist around if he could not.

She saw Robin raise the knife, knowing that he was bringing the blow, but it was all wrong. Instead of bringing the hilt down, he had the blade poised, striking down with a ferocious blow. She heard the sickening thud, the crack of a bone and the man crying out as the knife struck him in the chest. Robin was caught under his stumbling frame, the rushing of blood coating him as much as it was the floor.

"Robin?" Marian shook off the ill feeling, running towards him. With a hand she helped to push off the body, giving the man room to move free of his confines. Robin had dropped the blade, the sticky red fluid running down his skin and staining his clothes.

"What are you doing?" she asked him, reaching for him. She managed to grasp his wrist, but he pulled away from her. "You didn't have to kill him, we were doing fine!"

It was Robin who often told her that he wouldn't kill, and it was something she had believed in as well. His first priorities were to disarm, killing only when no other opportunity presented itself. Even then she often disagreed with it, thinking Robin often chose killing some people simply because it was easier, not necessarily the right thing to do. Yet here he had killed…

"It is no concern of yours," he breathed, his face pale in the candlelight. He was looking at her, but it was almost like he was lost somewhere in a fog, unable to really see. His voice had been steady, but lacking conviction.

"What you do is a concern of mine," Marian told him harshly. "I thought we were on the same side. What are you doing in the castle anyway?"

He didn't answer, staring instead at the blood that coated him as if he had never seen such a thing before. Marian let out a sigh, struggling to control her anger. Whatever reason had led him to do this act would have to be discussed later. Now was not the time for badgering choices already made.

"Are you hurt?"

He shook his head, moving to speak, but faltered as other voices sounded in the hall. Marian glanced over her shoulder, the door still standing open. Already the echoes of footfalls could be heard rushing up the stairs. It wouldn't be long before the only escape route was cut off.

"You mustn't be found here," she warned him, watching the door. When he didn't move she turned towards him sharply. "Go, now! I'll cover for you."

He stared at her for a moment, as if weighing the consequences, and then nodded, moving to his feet. He grabbed the blade, tucking it back into the loop of his belt. He paused one last time to glance at her, then hurried out, disappearing only moments before the guards arrived.

She knew she must look like a sight, covered with blood, a man dead next to her, the room in shambles. Yet if she was to get out of this, she had to be quick, and clever. "I need help," she called to them, reaching out and touching the man's shoulder.

He was already dead, but they did not know that. It was a private knowledge shared between her and Robin. "I heard voices, someone was calling for help."

"You should not be here, lady," one of the guards scolded her, dropping to a knee near the body.

"So I should ignore someone in distress, is what you are saying?"

"This is what we are here for. Matters like this are of no business to a lady."

"So I'm sure you could have helped?"

"No," the guard shook his head, "he is dead. There is nothing more we can do for him. My lady…you should not have to see this, come with me."

Marian thought about hesitating, but then reached for his hand. It would best if she did not linger, pretend that bloodshed was a foreign thought to her. She was on her feet when she heard the voice.

"What happened here?"

Gisborne stood in the frame of the door, taking in the scene. The guard next to her was explaining in a rush, stumbling over his words as he did so. Marian watched as his face paled slightly.

"I can't believe it," he whispered, "he did it."

"Did what?" Marian questioned him, her eyes moving back to the body on the floor. It was as though he was just seeing her there for the first time. His eyes narrowed and he moved into the room, taking her firmly by the arm.

"Come, Lady Marian, the guards will clean up this…mess. Let us see to you, are you hurt?"

She shook her head, following him from the room. "No, I just found him like that. What do you think happened? Who was he?"

"No one that concerns you…just a man the sheriff had business with."

That alone said enough; Robin more and likely had business with him, but to kill him? "Why would someone want him dead?"

"This is not the time for questions," he scolded her. They were moving down the stairs, out into the hallway now.

"Forgive me for my curiosity, Sir Guy, I just do not see how someone could get in and kill a man. It worries me, that is all."

"You have nothing to fear," he reassured her, his tone changing then. Marian knew she had played off a weak spot, knowing that he would explain to her at least some of the troubles that bothered her.

"There are a few that would want that man dead, the sheriff included. No doubt he had hired someone to do the deed. No one can slip by the guards."

"Robin Hood has before," she reminded him.

He came to a stop then, still holding her arm. The pressure lessened some, but he was still watching her. "You think that it was Hood?"

She didn't think, she knew. But she could not voice this concern to Gisborne. It would only go to further prove to him that she was, in all ways, loyal to Robin. Instead she smiled softly, suggesting an air of innocence despite her worry. "I was merely saying that if a simple outlaw could get inside the castle, then surely anyone could."

"You have been gone for some time," he told her. "Things have changed around the castle, I'm sure you will find. There is no need to worry. Go back to your room, I'll send a servant to assist you soon. I fear I must deal with matters at hand."

"Thank you, Sir Guy. I feel…upset about what has happened. I may just take to my room until the evening."

He nodded, and she knew part of the reason for his quick agreement was simply because of what had just happened. Guy would be busy, and she would be as well. She needed the time, time to slip away and find Robin, and figure out just what was going on.

* * *

He was slowly becoming accustomed to his new role. He couldn't particularly say that he enjoyed it, this waiting and being left behind, but at least he was doing something. Even if it was hardly anything. At least he wasn't being left back at camp. A light rain had started, droplets sounding on the leaves above and breaking through the cover, wetting the cloak that protected him.

Near him a horse bickered, stepping back a pace. She was a fine mare, one that Will had taken from a passing merchant with the help from John. The man had been adamant against it at first, but reconciled upon seeing that the two would leave him with the remainder of his possessions. Yet now the creature wasn't sure what was going on, having been forced to stay still, being hushed with each sound she made. She was a working horse, bred for pulling heavy loads. Lack of motion was not one of her finer qualities.

Yet she would have work soon; or so Will hoped. Near him John stood, watching as he did the clearing before them. From the edge of the trees they could see Nottingham Castle with little difficultly. Each stray figure, every passing shadow caught their attention, but every time it was not the ones they were hoping for.

Allan had led the others into the shire, leaving the pair to collect the horses as planned. He was still angry at being left behind, but reasoned it was the right thing to do given his state. The same would be asked from anyone else…

His gaze drifted to where John stood, watching the man quietly. After a time he cleared his throat, keeping his voice low so that it would not drift on the wind. "Thank you for staying. You did not have to."

"No."

John's answer was quick and gruff, biting into Will harshly. Even if there was no visible flinch he cringed inside. He knew he was of no help with concerns of strength, but he had yet to believe himself to be a bother. Whatever the case would be, it seemed as John believed that of him.

Will drew the mare closer to him, leaning his weight against the steed and off his worn leg. He had but one horse, John tending to two while another three were tied fast to the trees behind. Each one had been collected from nearby villages, or like in his case, _borrowed _from an unsuspecting traveler. It was an easy task, to use the horse then let it run on its way once the services were finished. They always found their way back. Even now the villagers stopped questioning when one of their steeds went missing, having the knowledge that it would be returned in a day or two.

He heard John sigh near him, the man shifting his weight as well. His voice brought Will from his thoughts, the younger man focusing on the older nearby. "Forgive me, Will. I am not angry with you."

"You're worried," Will answered simply. _Worried that I'll somehow mess up again, _he thought silently. He had once already, it had not only nearly cost him his life, but John's and Allan's as well. It was no wonder the man would have issues with him.

"Yes," John answered, "about Robin," he contradicted Will's thoughts, pausing for a moment then. "What will we do if Robin cannot remember?"

"He will. He has to; he's Robin Hood."

It was a faulty argument, Will knew, but what else could he say? There wasn't another fate that was possible to imagine. "And if he doesn't, we teach him."

"If he can't remember what he is fighting for, or who he is fighting for, then he is a danger to all of us."

He was going to respond, but his attention was drawn elsewhere at the other man's indication. Will's eyes narrowed as the figures raced across the field, hastening their strides as the gates behind them opened. It was time to go.

Grabbing a fistful of mane between his fingers, Will heaved himself up and over the saddle, working with both his good arm and leg, along with a boost from John to make it all the way up. It was awkward, but manageable, having been practiced a good number of times while waiting. Will did not want to be the reason for yet another failed mission.

Once he was secure, John thrust another set of reigns in his waiting hand, slapping the lead animal on rump to force it into a fast trot. He had reached the edge of the woods, passing into the clearing as he urged his horse into a run. Behind him he could hear the steady drone of hooves treading on the uneven ground. Horses were herd animals by nature, and they stayed near one another even without a guide.

Will urged his own mare on, loosening his hold on the reigns and allowing the animal to run free. Ahead he could see the others, the gap between them closing. Then behind them he could see the gates open, a line of guards mounted on their own steeds leaving the castle walls. The four of them had a good start, but were on foot, and they were losing that ground quickly. Will watched them for a moment, gauging just how much time they had left and urged his steed on even faster.

Moments before reaching them he pulled up, bringing not only his own horse to a halt, but the others as well, each animal shifting nervously as they were caught by outreaching hands. Djaq had reached them first, pulling herself up with one motion. Her pause was only long enough to make sure the others had made it as well.

Allan mounted his own steed without so much of a pause. He pulled his sword, steadying the animal as he stayed near Will, offering support as the line of guards drew even closer.

The last two were Much and Robin. The former manservant refused to leave his master's side, and it was then Will could see why. At first he was just grateful to see the man running under his own power. Then came to the stark realization that the man was covered in a fine sheen of blood. It was soaked in his hair, clinging to his clothes, spattered on his face and arms, dark and forbidding against his skin.

"What happened?"

Robin glanced his way as he grasped the reigns of one of the free mares. There was a strange apprehensive look on the man's face, almost as if he were seeing a ghost. It was gone in the next moment, Will attributing it to the blood shinning off his pale flesh. An urging from John distracted him, Will turning away as Robin mounted.

"A minor altercation," Robin explained, catching his attention again. "It was nothing."

"Which means it was something," Will muttered, turning his horse around. The guards were closing their distance, several pulling their bows taunt with arrows. They had precious little time before one of them would find their mark. That was something Will did not care for…he had already been shot once. But he could not blame Robin if the man had truly been disorientated.

Will didn't dwell on the subject, urging his mare on, following after Robin and the others. It gave him some hope. There was no time to ask what he remembered, if anything at all. Yet by the way he had responded, by what he had said, it seemed he had. It was encouraging…as encouraging as the trees surrounding him were.

**TBC**


	10. Acceptance

**Thanks Goes out to Kegel for betaing this for me. Chapter isn't as long as the others this time, but I'm expecting a longer chapter next time. Let me know if you're still reading, and thanks to your patience **

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**Chapter Ten: Acceptance**

The fair maiden still lingered on his mind. Like a ghost from his past. He knew full well that if it had not been for her, then he would have met his match. He had seen her before, once in the hallways after being led from the dungeons. But he knew her more than that…and yet not at all. She certainly knew who he was. Then again there were many that did, and he could not even recall their names.

Still, something inside of Robin knew to not be surprised by her fighting prowess. Somehow he knew she was there to help, and not to harm. And something else was there that kept him from speaking of her to the sheriff. Robin had almost convinced himself it was because the mission had been his and his alone. Admitting that another had helped was almost the same as admitting he could not carry out the mission given to him now. And if he could not do that, then his life would be forfeit.

Robin let out a breath, rolling to one side, the knowledge heavy on his mind. Wrapped in the warmth of his bed roll was a far difference in comparison to the musty stench of the dungeon. It was, he had to admit, quite pleasant. It wasn't just the soft cushions underneath him, but the sounds of the forest that surrounded him, the even breaths around him from his companions that helped ease him.

Yet at the thought, the knot that was in his stomach earlier had returned. Robin found himself rolling to his back once more. Rest was not coming easily to him, despite how worn and tired he was. His mind was afire with what he knew and the wonderment to what was still missing. It was a collection of jumbled thoughts, leading him to wonder if half of the memories were real, or if they were concocted in order to please his wandering mind.

Such as the maiden he had met before. There was something that told him there was something about her. Something he couldn't speak of. She was in some form of danger, but he couldn't describe what type of danger, or where the source of danger was even from. He remembered the foreboding feeling that lingered in his chest when he met with the sheriff afterwards. Of how the words danced on the edge of his lips, and even still he could not speak them. He was keeping her safe; but from what, and more importantly why?

Robin had followed his own instinct then, even if he didn't truly know what it wanted. He was sure, that even if his mind could not remember, his body would. And yet, what he had just done felt more of a sin than anything he could even imagine. Not the keeping of the secret, but of the killing. He had killed before. The feeling was not foreign…just unwanted. And yet the deed had been done.

Was there any choice in the matter? Robin liked to believe there had not been. The man had not been surprised to see him, had not waited to see what he would do. Even when Robin had offered him a chance at retaining his life, the man had cast it aside like empty words. Instead he had been the one to attack, driving him back, willing and needing to take his life.

The man had been good with a sword. But so had he. Robin unconsciously fingered the hilt of the dagger that remained hidden amongst the blankets. Even though these strangers…these people he knew and yet could not recall, had welcomed him warmly, and had risked their lives to see him safely out of the castle, Robin did not trust them. Not if they had been the ones to cause this misfortune in the first place.

The sheriff had urged him to take haste, that no time could be wasted. Every moment that was lingered on indecision could be his last, that there was no certainty as to when or even how they would strike next. And the secrets they could pull from him if information was what they were truly seeking could be devastating. _If_ he could remember anything, that was.

Robin let out a sigh, closing his eyes. What he would give to remember anything coherent, instead of the faint whispers that danced in his mind just beyond his reach. He could see faces, and hear voices. He knew them, knew that he could trust them, but the new voices that entered his mind tricked him, deceived him, made him think that all was not what he believed. There was more to this riddle; he knew that much for sure. There were more questions he had, and they needed answers before he acted on them.

Tomorrow…somehow, he would find a way back into the castle, find his way back to the sheriff, to Guy of Gisborne, and find out what else was missing. It would be the first thing he would do, before taking any form of drastic action. Even if it meant risking his life. Somehow that just seemed natural, something he would do…Robin was sure of it.

* * *

It had been so long…so long since she had last done this. She felt the thrill, but also the fierce pounding of her heart, drowning out any sounds around her. Marian took a few deep breaths, willing herself to calm down, reassuring her mind that all was well. After all, she had done this many a-times, just a few years ago.

And yet the Nightwatchman had yet to make an appearance for that long. It was foolish, her mind reasoned. They would connect the two instances, her disappearance happening at the same time as the phantom, and his reappearance with her. How could they not?

But the Nightwatchman had been wounded all that time ago. Some would believe him dead…others would imagine he had taken leave to recover. So his reappearance wouldn't be too suspicious, or so Marian hoped. Yet it wasn't only that, but her journey here hadn't left her in the best of sorts for packing. Toting her leathers and mask along with her wasn't the primary thought on her mind when she had left.

The clothing was Lyre's; the man was larger than she, but only marginally so. She hadn't hired him for his strength, but instead his wits. She could care for herself well enough, and only needed a guide for appearance. He was a simple man who had lost his tongue in an unfair fight, and had been the one to help her and her father's transition to their new life.

He too, was staying in the castle, at her request. Guy was so eager to please her he had even offered the fanciest of rooms for them, but she had declined. It was easier to hide when one blended into society, and she needed the camouflage more now than ever. Slipping to Lyre's room had been easy, and the man didn't even question when Marian requested some of his old clothing.

They were plain, a grayish dark without any embellishments. But it was what she needed. The black of the night would help conceal her, keep her identity hidden if anyone was to spot her. The cloak was long and tattered, having seen more than its fair share of use. But it would do. She fastened the fabric about her neck, pulling on the hood.

A scarf, one her father had given her, served well for a mask once dyed in berries. It was thin enough to allow her to breathe without trouble, and tucked beneath her eyes would conceal most to all of her face. All it needed to be was secured…

The knock at her door made her jump, stifling a curse as she pulled the cloth away with haste. She couldn't be found clothed like this, by anyone, lest it raise any questions. Her heart skipped a beat, but she willed herself to stay calm. More in likely it was simply a servant coming by to fetch her dirty linen. Marian could easily dismiss her.

"Who is it?"

"Marian…I wish to speak with you."

She felt her insides turn to ice, the cloth fall from her hand. Curse it all, out of everyone, why was it him? A servant she could send away…Guy was more persistent. And if he saw her, if he knew whom she really was, he would kill her.

She saw the handle move, and lunged for it, grasping it as it turned. Her weight was thrown against the door, Marian's mind racing for an explanation. Guy would certainly demand one.

"Marian?"

The tone in his voice had changed from the pleading to one that was more firm, demanding. The same tone he used with his guards that dared to question an order. Marian swallowed, trying to come up with an excuse, any excuse.

"I…I'm not decent!" she cried, taking a breath and forcing herself to stay calm, "just a minute!"

She stayed for only a moment, dodging away when and only when she was certain he would oblige. Quickly she scooped up the fallen scarf, shoving it under her mattress, following suit with the rest of her clothes. Half followed the scarf and the rest, cape included, was flung under the bed. If found, they were ratty enough to pass as forgotten items from the last tenant, and both Marian and Lyre would have to do without the garments.

Guy was knocking again, voicing his concerns, the handle moving once more. He was not a patient man. Yet Marian knew she would not have the time to dress fully once more, it would only open her up to more suspicion. Her own cloak, adorned with fur and the one she wore for the coldest of nights while traveling through the forest, would have to do.

Hardly had she had it on and covered herself when the door opened. Marian let out a sigh, whether of relief she had made it in time, or of irritation that Guy had no decency she wasn't sure. At any rate she wasn't going to press her luck, for fear of rousing questions of curiosity.

"You caught me at an awkward moment," she confessed. "I was just heading to bed."

"In that?" he wondered, his frame hardly more than a silhouette in the doorway. His gaze moved from her to where the fire was, the flames dancing in the hearth.

She knew what his lingering gaze meant. Already the warmth was becoming uncomfortable, but she faked a smile, taking a seat on her bed. "I feel chilled…I think perhaps by what happened earlier."

"There is no need to worry, My Lady," he nodded towards her, coming into the room. "We have scouts seeking the man responsible. No one would dare return, not after what happened."

"Can you be so sure?"

Marian moved to one side, allowing him room to sit. She felt oddly uncomfortable as he did, and though the heavy cloth covered her she felt as though it was not there. As though he could see through her ploy, and tell that she was lying.

"You are safe here. I would not ask you to stay if I did not believe so. I care for you."

There were many things she could have said in response. Bring up the fact he had attempted to force her into wedlock, or how he lied about the king's return, and chased her from her home. She could have brought up the fact that the only reason she was staying here was because her home was gone, burned by his own hand. Yet she had not the time for a fight tonight.

She gave him a smile, one that proved confidence and nodded. "I trust your judgment. I am simply weary, that is all. I need my rest."

"I was actually hoping we could speak with one another. It has been so long since we have had the time just to talk."

Talking wasn't going to make him leave, rather encourage him to stay, and Marian needed that time to herself. Her worry was for Robin, her curiosity was drawn to finding out whom that man was. Something wasn't right, and her insides were heavy with that knowledge.

"If we must," she started, her mind searching for excuses. "Though I was hoping we could wait…at least until I have rested."

"Are you ill?"

The question was of concern, and quickly she smiled. The same smile that was becoming worn on her face. She would not be able to keep up the ploy much longer. "It is as I have told you; I am simply weary. It is not every day that a woman experiences so much…excitement."

He looked thoughtful for a moment, then nodded, moving to his feet. "Forgive me, Marian. I was thinking only of my own desires. I have seen more than you have and forget that things like this is a rarity for you. I will leave you to your rest, if you promise to meet with me in the morning."

Relief flooded through her, and she held herself back from accepting the deal too readily. All she would need would be the night. Then she could blame her fatigue on poor sleep. "Thank you, Sir Guy, you are too kind."

"I'll have a guard stay near your chamber," he started, continuing before she could protest. "That way no one will disturb you, and it will ensure a peace of mind for myself."

"You said it was safe…"

"There have been times where I have been wrong. I am not afraid to admit my faults, Marian. In time I'm sure you'll come to appreciate that."

"Of course," she whispered, and then nodded. "Thank you, I shall sleep easier knowing that I have added protection. Good night, Sir Guy."

"I shall call upon you in the morning."

Marian watched him leave, a scowl working her way to her face. Her excuse of being worried about the supposed murderer had turned against her. The chances of her slipping away unseen were even less now. They had been small before, and worry was always resting with her that Guy would come calling and find her chamber empty. He had come calling, and nearly caught her as well. Her antics would have to be executed more cautiously from now on.

That included starting tonight. She would find no answers, and the concern in her gut would have to be crushed until tomorrow, during a time in which she could find an opportunity to slip away without being missed. This would prove exceedingly taunting, seeing how close Guy was keeping her.

Letting out a groan she flopped back on the bed, the pillows cushioning her fall. There was little to do now but sleep, gather her strength, and try again tomorrow.

* * *

He dreamt. Of people he didn't know, of places he hadn't seen, of things he wasn't sure he had ever done. And yet it felt so real, as though he did know all of those things, somewhere, at some point in time. He reached out for them, trying to grasp them, to pull them back, to reclaim what was once his. But they were only shadows, ghosts of his memories coming back to taunt him. They slid through his fingers, coming so close that he could taste them, and smell the aroma, both good and bad in which they were associated.

He saw yellow…burning lands of sand as far as the eye could see. There was red…staining the white of the fabric, and tears due to pain. Not physical, but something else, yet what he couldn't understand. A figure cloaked in rags, an arrow nearly hitting him. There was something strange about that man…

The dreams changed, the visions shifting to a village, of people working, then running. Fleeing from those on horseback. They stormed houses, stole rings and purses right off their mantels and straight out of their pockets. There was more crying, more pleading, begging. Some words he heard, some he understood, but most were lost in a sea of cries. All swirling, pulling him one way and then another. He tried to fight against the current, but didn't have the strength.

The smells returned, this time more fiercely, of meat, cooked goods. A man offering work in exchange for food, he needed help with digging. He didn't need the food…he had food…didn't he? But someone was asking…no begging. He couldn't resist the pleading…

Robin opened his eyes, the vision fading but the smell as strong as ever. Out of his dazed sleep his eyes were slowly focusing, coming alive to the world that was around him. Whatever dreams he had held the night before were gone, reality chasing them away and proving to him that his memories were still elusive as ever.

A plate of food caught his attention, and he gripped it wearily, blinking in the early morning light. His mind, overworn and still confused from recent incidents had difficulty processing what was happening.

"Told you it would wake him up."

The voice sounded cheered, relieved at the same time, Robin eyeing the man suspiciously for a moment, trying to recall his name. He had never asked, never wanting to raise suspicion, but now he wished he had. Sorting all these occupants of the forest out was proving rather difficult.

"Well the way you cook, Much, would wake the dead, right out of their graves."

Much…that was his name. The man glared at the other who had spoken, jutting his head upwards. "I'll take that as a compliment."

"You don't even know what that means."

"Of course I do," Much argued, "I can say it, can't I?"

"And I can say that I'm King of England, but that doesn't mean I am."

"I can say to both of you to be quiet, or I will make you, and I do mean it," the dark skinned one said. He turned to Robin, the humor leaving his face. "We were worried…you normally don't sleep that long."

Robin had half listened to the brewing argument, picking instead small morsels of food from the crude wooden plate. It wasn't as fancy as the ones back at the castle, but it proved its usefulness. The meat was dry, indistinguishable, but carried flavor. He ate cautiously, as though expecting any morsel to suddenly kill him due to poisoning.

But after the first few bites went without harm he continued, still willing to bring his mind from the fog that surrounded it. His thoughts from last night were still with him, and now he was even more determined to have his way. It was like an insatiable need, an urge as strong as his hunger had been the day before, unwilling to submit until his curiosity had been quenched.

"Are you going to tell us what happened? I mean, we risked our lives to get you out, but you seemed quite able yourself. Taking a detour to kill someone even…"

The question caught his attention, most particularly because the voice had been raised. Robin finished chewing the food that was in his mouth, swallowing as he starred at the other man. What had they just called him? Allan?

Names weren't that important that moment, excuses were. He could not tell them of his findings, nor could he accuse them of his injuries. Not only did he not know, but if it were true, he was honestly in real danger.

"It was something I had to do," he answered simply, hoping that would be enough to satisfy them.

"The man," the dark skinned one spoke again, his speech short but clearly understood, "he was the one in the forest."

At his blank stare he continued. "I guessed... Much had told me some about him…he sounds like what our people call a ḥaššāšīn."

"Assassin," Robin spoke the word, even though he didn't recognize the language. Somehow he knew what it was, there was no doubt in his mind. The sheriff had said he had hired the man to kill…that would make him what he was. "How did you know?"

"She knows everything," Allan commented, leaning against the tree behind him.

She? Robin turned from him to the other man…or woman, and he recognized her now. Beneath her folds of clothes was the slightest indication of curves, ones that would be missed save for a closer inspection. He blushed, turning away. With so much on his mind it was understandable on how he missed it…but surely…he had hoped, his memory would have been good enough to remember something like that. It only proved his rising fear; he could remember nothing tangible…

"If he was an assassin…who was he here to kill?"

_Me…_Robin thought dimly, swallowing the last bit of meat on his plate. But he could not even voice the thought, for fear of having to explain how he knew. Instead he shook his head, letting out a breath as he tried to sound calm. "Whatever the case, it couldn't have been good. I had to stop him."

"But kill him?" Much wondered.

Robin swallowed, knowing the man's words echoed those of the maiden's that had essentially saved his life. He needed to see her…needed to see Guy. "I need to get back into the castle."

"You were just there," Will argued. He was the only man that Robin hadn't forgotten, the man he had incidentally wounded with an arrow. "And you killed one of the sheriff's men. It's too dangerous."

"Will is right," the woman agreed, "you should wait."

Robin could feel his insides turn, his mind afire with questions. Why was it that they did not wish for him to return? Was it because they actually feared for his safety? Or was it perhaps because they did not trust for him to return? Was it because they wanted him here…so that they may carry out any of their planned deeds?

There was nothing for him to fear in the castle; Robin reassured himself of that. The sheriff and Guy would see him, would answer the rest of his questions. There hadn't been much time for explanations after the murder…yes, they would see him again. He would not be harmed. But the others must not know that.

"There is something I must do," he insisted, moving to his feet. "Wait here."

"We all go."

The voice startled him. For a time Robin had forgotten about the giant of a man that resided with the group. He looked like a man of strength, as though he held the ability to snap any man in two if he so desired it. At first Robin had been weary of him, his imagination running wild to the possibilities of what these people could do with such a man on their side.

But he spoke little, kept to himself, and soon Robin had grown accustomed to him. Had almost grown to like the man's quiet company. But his company was not one he desired on this escapade. He wanted to say no, wanted to forbid it. Yet he had no real notion as to how the others were to react if he said so. He didn't want to alarm them, didn't want to tip them off to his devious deed.

Instead he nodded, calming his nerves, and forcing a smile. "I will need help to get inside, I suppose."

"Getting in is easy," Allan replied, "getting out is the hard part."

"You're all insane," Much argued. "A man is dead…and Robin his hurt. So is Will; we should stay here."

"I'm fine," Will argued, already on his feet. His arm was still bandaged, but it hung freely at his side, clutching a bow. "And I'm coming."

Robin nodded, "Then let us be off."

**TBC**


	11. Sacrafices

**Next chapter here, with much help of that of my beta, Kegel. Make sure to thank her, cause this chapter wouldn't be up without her.**

**Enjoy!**

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**Chapter Eleven: Sacrifices **

Morning brought an air of nervousness. Throughout his own fears, and the taunting of the sheriff in-between it all, Gisborne had finally mustered enough courage to approach Marian. To talk with her; to try and set things straight. To right the wrongs, one could actually say.

Convincing her to return to Nottingham had been difficult enough. But her being here hadn't been anything noticeable. She kept to herself, brushing off his attempts to talk. Though each time they passed one another in the corridors he found himself at an unreasonable loss for words. All that would change, it had to change. If he wanted her back, that was.

So he had taken that step, had made up his mind to confront her. In his head was a jumble of words that made sense in every manner, and there wasn't a way that Marian could deny him now. Except for that had been last night. When he had been driven by the need, the burning desire to sort things out.

Now that feeling had worn off, had left him empty, gutless. Teetering on the edge of an invisible abyss, ready to plunge over into the dark void of an emotionally wrought breakdown. It was a weakness. Gisborne could feel it, along with the shame of the knowledge.

The morning brought a warm sun, bright and early, and a very worn Master-At-Arms. Gisborne had not slept the night before, had not been able to. His apprehension had kept him busy enough. Even now he found himself pacing, wearing the floor beneath him thin, his gloves nearly tearing in his hands as he wrung them. What could be keeping her?

He had sent a servant to fetch Marian some time ago, having planned to accompany her to the morning meal. They would certainly feel more comfortable after having eaten, and then perhaps a brisk walk about the castle. Maybe, just maybe, he would have the courage to speak the words he needed to. Every passing day, Gisborne felt her slipping further and further away. He wasn't going to lose her again. No matter what the sheriff said.

Impatiently he let out a sigh, turning on his heel, quick strides taking him back down the corridor. There wasn't much of an explanation. Marian didn't want him, didn't care about him. That was the reason why she hadn't listened to his words last night. The reason why she was so heavily dressed. She was getting ready to leave. He had driven her away before he had even gotten close.

"Guy?"

He turned, his heart faltering for a moment at the voice. For a long moment he just stared, overtaken by her beauty, but more so by the fact she was even there. Suddenly his insides froze, making it difficult to breathe. How could he have thought that of her? How did such ill thoughts manage to creep their way into his head?

"Forgive me, Marian," he croaked, his voice barely a whisper.

She came in further, her face a mixture of emotions, among all of them confusion. "What for, Sir Guy?"

"Please," he corrected her, "Guy. I am not a stranger to you. I beg your pardon for dragging you out of bed at such an early hour, but I could not wait another moment to speak with you."

"Why?" her voiced had changed, worry evident in it. "Is there something amiss? My father? Have you received some news about him?"

"No, milady, I have not, that is…it is not what I wished to speak of. The concerns are my own selfish desires, I must admit, but you are always on my thoughts."

She blushed, a smile crossing her face, "Is it proper to speak such things in front of a lady?"

"Only when they are true," he admitted, wetting his lips. "I beg of you, Marian, please walk with me, listen to what I have to say. I was hoping we could break fast together, and spend the rest of our hours with one another."

"Surely you have more important duties to attend to," she pointed out. "I cannot ask you to spare all of your time simply for me."

She seemed concerned, a bit put off that he wanted to spend time with her. For every reason she should be. Any attempt at spending a quiet evening was usually ruined. Being Master-At-Arms wasn't an easy job. There were always duties to attend to. Duties that took his attention away from her.

"I will have my men tend to them for today," he reassured her, wanting her to believe his sincere offer. "The sheriff will oversee my duties, and we can have the freedom to do what we wish. Horses…you like horses, and riding. We can ride through the villages, maybe even a bit of the forest if we stay close to the shires. Lest we receive an untimely welcome from Hood and his men."

She scoffed, something that surprised him. "Hood doesn't worry me."

"You were quite…intimidated with him the night before."

"That was when I believed he was responsible for the death of that man," she replied calmly. "You convinced me otherwise; unless of course you were lying."

"No," Guy shook his head, "of course not. I would never lie to you, Marian…not now, not anymore. I did once and do not wish to do so again."

The truth was that he couldn't remember ever denying Robin's involvement with the murder. Rather dismissing her silly fears that she was in any danger. Hood was ruthless, at times, but he would never harm a lady. Even more so now that the outlaw was under their power. But he would not correct himself before her. It was better for her to believe the lie to be true, and still trust in his honesty.

Slowly, carefully, he held his arm out, beckoning to her. "Milady?"

She took it after a moment, locking her arm about his in a gentle hold. Guy swallowed the lump that was forming in his throat, reminding himself to breathe. She always did this to him, made him forget his words, made him realize that there was something to life that he was missing. A beautiful woman who completed him.

Guy grasped her hand gently, yet firmly, giving it a squeeze as they made their way down the hall. There was so much to say, but Guy wasn't even sure where to start. Perhaps when they ate, yes, they would be more comfortable, their voices wouldn't echo through the halls, wouldn't make them feel as though they were surrounded by emptiness.

Just as he was thinking these thoughts, a shadow moved before his eyes. At first he thought it was a trick of the light, something he thought only he had seen, but Marian stiffened at his side. She had seen it, too. It was there again, and Gisborne reached for his sword, holding Marian close, ready to defend her against this intruder.

"Show yourself," he demanded, his soft voice melting into a fierce one that was demanding authority. Whoever was causing this mayhem would pay for the disturbance.

The shadow he thought to have seen before moved, now more of a form than a trick of light. He could hear Marian gasp behind him, and could see why. In an instant he pulled out the sword, holding it out in front of him. "Hood!"

"Gisborne," the man returned as a greeting, his gaze shifting over to where Marian stood.

"What is it that you want?"

Guy's mind was racing furiously. The man was not supposed to return…not this soon. Unless he had carried out the deed that was, slaughtering all of the men in their sleep. Yet was that possible? Even for Robin Hood?

No. Gisborne shook his head; it wasn't. That meant that something else was happening. The sheriff's plan failed, Robin could remember, knew it had only been a trick. He was back now to finish them off. Gisborne smiled wryly. He wouldn't let it happen. He would cut Hood down here and now. Marian would be impressed by his skill, his courage. He stepped forward.

Yet Hood hadn't made a move to draw a weapon himself. Instead his gaze was on Marian, but at the moment it moved back to him, scrutinizing him carefully. "I must speak with you."

The man's demeanor was calm, without a hint of fear or alarm despite the fact that a sword was mere inches from his chest. Yet Robin had never seemed to be fazed by such instances before. In fact the man seemed to play off of them, as though they were an addiction. Taunting and toying, never serious. It was enraging. Guy knew he could fix that here and now with a single blow; forget what the sheriff wanted or desired. With Robin out of the way, they would no longer need to worry about any of Hood's men.

Yet even as he moved, he was stopped, not by the outlaw for the man hadn't even reacted. It came from behind, a soft and gentle touch, masking the firmness behind it. Lady Marian…she had already seen enough blood…dispatching him here would do no favors for the either of them.

"Marian, return to your room. No harm shall come to you."

"I won't abandon you," she replied, moving up alongside him. She seemed unafraid of the presence of the man. Yet was she seeing him as the outlaw he was, or her lover that he once used to be? It stirred the deep resentment, the jealously he always held. Marian had always preferred Robin over him, a fondness Guy had never been able to understand. Even now, it was peculiar. The man had nothing to offer her: no house, no home, no fortune.

Yet he, Guy of Gisborne, could offer all of that and more, and Marian had turned him away. It only served to open that wound deeper, and for a moment he let his guard slip. His attention was brought back forth, as an arm laid upon his, lowering the weapon. It was Marian's doing.

"If he must speak, let him speak, and he can go on his way. Then we can continue on together," she whispered quietly in his ear. Her breath was warm, and the words were theirs alone. A secret not meant for Robin.

She turned, her voice rising, as she gazed upon the outlaw. "There is no reason for any bloodshed if words are the only thing to be traded."

"Marian," Gisborne spoke calmly, trying to grasp the reality of what was happening. She was so tempting, standing this close and it was starting to confuse his mind. He could take Hood here and now, the man had yet to draw a single weapon. But he could not risk upsetting Marian…not when they had come so close to regaining all that ground that was lost. Even if she didn't still care for the outlaw, she valued any life, even that of a criminal. To take one so effortlessly in front of her would not approve any favors from her.

"This is no matter of business for a woman."

"But it would be for your wife."

He lost it then, his entire gaze leaving the outlaw, his sword lowering so that the point rested on the ground. If Robin truly did mean harm, then now would be the moment the outlaw would have struck. But Gisborne was too distracted, his heart actually stopping for the time as he absorbed the words she had just spoken.

"You mean…?"

She looked at him, a quick glance towards Robin, perhaps to see if there was any danger from the man. A smart move, considering that he, Master-at-Arms, wasn't even paying attention. Then she was looking at him again, a smile on her face, soft and gentle, and she nodded. "I did give you my promise, Guy of Gisborne. Yet you broke my promise with treason of your own. It will take time for my heart to heal. But once that is done, and we can trust one another again…I will….marry you."

"Marian…" he breathed, his voice suddenly lost. He had thought for the longest of times that everything he had ever worked for that was worth it had been destroyed forever. Yet she had brought it back. She had returned, truly with intent to stay…he felt so many emotions it was hard to describe them, or even keep them at bay. He was trying to find the words to say, forming the words in his head so that they would make sense. Yet before he could speak, something stopped him.

"My felicitations," the outlaw spoke, startling him out of a trance. "Now if we may, we have more important things to discuss than your upcoming matrimony."

"Of course," Guy swallowed, sheathing his sword as he straightened. A hand still rested on the hilt, just in case this was some sort of trickery. "Please excuse the Lady Marian as she returns to her bedchamber. This is no discussion for a lady."

Robin nodded, almost irritated, but Marian refused to move.

"If you cannot trust me, then tell me so now," she informed him, "rather than play with words behind my back. If I am to be your…wife…then I must, in the least, be given a chance to understand at least some of the politics that rule our world."

He wanted to argue, wanted to send her away. It was for her own safety as much as anything else. The mentioning of trust was the only thing that held him back. He wanted her to trust him, wanted her to know that he trusted her. Slowly he sighed, but nodded, relenting. The lady would tire of it. Politics were never meant for women.

"Very well, but what is spoken here you must not repeat. Business and law, as all matter of things are, are privy to Nottingham and the Sheriff. This is no matter for the likes of you…but I trust you, Marian."

She nodded, stepping closer to him as if seeking protection. Guy moved a bit in front of her, nodding to Robin once more. "Well then, what is it that you must say?"

"I need to know more about my mission."

"Mission?"

It was Marian who had spoken, her voice hard and full of curiosity. Guy saw the opportunity to prove that he fully trusted her.

"The sheriff has hired our friend here to take care of some…excessive problems."

"Hood is working for the sheriff now?"

"Always has," Guy spoke quickly, remembering the sheriff's plan. If he was to stick to the story, he could not leave any details out. "His so called heroic antics have merely been a ploy of the sheriff's. How do you think it was that he escaped from here so often without so much as a scratch?"

"I cannot simply kill other men," Robin broke in, ignoring the conversation the two were carrying. "Not without reason."

"Killing?" Marian glanced from one to the other. "What is going on here? Hood doesn't kill."

"He was meant to kill the other outlaws in the forest long ago, but he seems to have grown soft," Gisborne mocked the other man. "They found out that he was working for the sheriff you see, the others, and they attacked Robin in the forest. Robin Hood…has forgotten who he is. Luckily the sheriff and I found him before any harm could befall him. Still he seems reluctant to follow simple orders; even when it means saving his own life."

"Forgotten?" Marian whispered near him, "how can that be?"

"Do not fret, my lady. He will not harm you," Gisborne reassured, his attention turning back to Robin. "Can you understand now why you must finish them? To keep those monsters from harming others, such as the lady here. If they are willing to try and kill you, who they believe to be a loyal comrade, what might they do to someone they do not know or even care about?"

"They have done me no ill harm since my return," Robin argued.

"Of course not," Gisborne reassured in return. "You could easily best them, even when wounded. So they are taking care, and will strike when you least expect it. That was the entire reason for haste."

"You can't kill them," Marian argued, capturing both of their attention.

"Silence," Gisborne warned, "I said you could listen, but you do not hold any authority to advise."

"Let her speak," Robin nodded towards them. "I value all opinions. If her reasoning is not enough for me to believe my deeds are wrong, then I will finish what I started. Surely you cannot argue with that."

Guy hesitated, but Marian was already speaking. "What good would it do…for the people of Nottingham, to sit in their fears and worry about the outlaws that creep about their homes at night? Would they not rest better if they could see for themselves…the execution of criminals?"

"Public execution?"

She nodded, her face pale and her lips stretched thin. This talk seemed to be unnerving her. Yet Guy saw promise behind her idea, and even more so, a way to show that he valued her opinion.

"A wise choice indeed," he nodded. "The sheriff would be most pleased to host an event to promote their hangings. It is as she says; the people of Nottingham need to know their fears are no longer. You will bring them here instead."

"How? Even one man cannot subdue so many at once."

"Bring them one by one if you must," Gisborne growled irritably. Why was it that he must think of everything?

"Or set a trap," Marian spoke eagerly. Over-eagerly, if Gisborne would say so. "In the dungeons. Hood has rescued people before. The outlaws would not suspect him if he took them there. You could have them all at once. After all…his men would grow suspicious if others just started disappearing without an explanation."

"I must apologize," Guy said meekly, "you seem to know more about politics than I gave you credit for. We have set traps before, yet they always managed to escape from them."

"That was when Hood worked with them," Marian reassured him. "Now that he knows…of their treacherous ways…he will not try to help them escape. I remember, one time when I was visiting a friend in the dungeons after she had stolen some food. There was a lower chamber there…the jailer said it hadn't been used in years. Robin could tell his men that someone important is being kept down there, and that Sheriff kept him in that lower part because he was worried Hood would find him. The men go down there, Hood blocks the door; it can't be any simpler."

"It is agreed then," Robin nodded to the pair. "Seems much easier than trying to kill them all."

"Lady Marian…seems almost overly eager to help. An unusual trait," Guy muttered, looking at her.

Marian blushed, but she nodded, "I only want what is right…I expect them to get a fair trial."

"They are outlaws…there is no trial."

"Those are my conditions, Guy of Gisborne," she warned him bitterly. "If you trust me, then I wish to trust you as well. Prove to me that you can be true to your word, and find in your heart to give a man a fair chance at life."

"Even a fair trial would end in a hanging," Guy warned her, feeling the same frustrating feeling he had before. Of wanting to do what was right, and wanting to do what Marian wanted of him.

"Yes," she breathed, "but at least this way, no one can say they didn't have any chances."

He nodded, grasping her hand, "You have my word, Marian."

He turned to address the outlaw once more, the man waiting patiently with almost a hint of disgust on his face. Guy let himself smile, reveling in the jealously that seemed to pour off the man. "Tomorrow night…everything will be ready by then. You'll find safe passage into the castle, but do not make it look easy or your men will suspect you. They go first into the lower dungeon, I'll mark the door so you cannot miss it. When they're in, close the door, bolt it, and come find me."

"Certainly," Robin nodded, and with a short, mockingly bow to the woman, he turned and left, disappearing into the shadows as quickly as he came.

Grasping Marian's hand tighter, Guy cleared his throat, turning to her. "I must speak with the sheriff…this time alone. You will be well enough on your own?"

She nodded, a warm smile coming to her face. "Of course, Sir Guy…I think I may go for a ride…the open air would do good for my head."

"Of course," he replied, moving in to kiss her. She hesitated, but returned it, pulling away much sooner than he wished her to. Yet he would not press it; they still needed time, but at least he knew that the time would come again.

"Will you wear the ring I gave you then?"

"If I can find it," she breathed after a moment.

"Do not trouble yourself, I shall get you a new one."

"There is no need, Sir Guy…"

"There is," he insisted, "so that I can prove to you that I trust you, and to prove our faith in one another is newer, and stronger, than it was once before."

She smiled again, and nodded, "If you must insist…I will leave you to your business, and speak with you later."

He kissed her hand once more before letting her go, remaining in the hallway for the longest of times before heading off on his own. There was much to do, but he knew that before the end of the week was out, Robin and all of his men would be dead, Marian would be his fiancé once more, and maybe the sheriff would even give him a promotion for the plans he was about to suggest.

* * *

Inside her was a knot twisting painfully and sticking fast. Even as the words left her mouth she felt ill, and numb. Yet what else could she do? She had to think fast, had to stop what was happening then and there. The idea of the trap bought her precious time, and even now that time was fading.

The news of Robin was startling, but it made sense. Robin had barely noticed her the day before, and the wound was still visible on his head even if it was healing. Could it be possible? Could someone honestly forget who he truly was?

If it could happen, which it seemed to have done so, why Robin? He was essential; not only to the people of England…but to her…

She came to a stop, head hanging low, her thoughts threatening to consume her. What could he do, if he didn't even remember her? How could there be anything there? Even more so, she had promised herself to another man…had done so…so that she could find out what was happening. A risk she had taken before, a risk she would take again. Marriage was only a bond of words…it did not mean that she loved him…

And if it spared lives…she would suffer it.

Marian drew in a breath, steadying herself. As Gisborne's wife, she may even be able to change him, to shape him. That would be the best for everyone. There was good in him; she knew that, simply because she could see it in him. He just had difficulty expressing it and the sheriff's constant games only confused him all the more.

That would all come in due time however. For now, there was work to be done. First and foremost, she needed to reach the outlaw's camp, and before Robin did. They needed to know what was happening. If Robin had been so easy to hide it from her, then it would be easy for the others to not notice anything amiss. She needed to warn them…not only about Robin, but about the plan as well.

During the time that her father was sheriff, Marian had spent her fair share of running amuck the castle with several of her friends. Without her mother her father had been too busy to try and teach her the proper manners of a young woman, and instead let her bound about the castle wrapped in her own imaginations. She would take turns with the others, exploring hidden nooks and crannies, pretending to fight evil and perform heroic deeds.

There was much she did not know, but more than once had she and her friends found passageways hidden from prying eyes. When she asked, her father had simply told her it was built for safety, in case there was ever a need to escape and hide.

While most passageways were secure, several had not been maintained for years. They had been forgotten, or had already caved in to the point that they were nearly impassible. One such passageway came from the old dungeon. This particular passageway was one that had been installed many years ago to allow someone to slip through unseen. Marian's father had explained that there had been instances in other lands where kings and nobles had been imprisoned in their own dungeons after being invaded. Marian had found this passageway purely by accident when she was younger.

It was apparent then that it had been forgotten about. Most of that dungeon had been sealed off already since the building of a newer one, due to the increasing number of criminals that were appearing. Her father, upon hearing about it, had it sealed off once more, in order to keep young ones from coming to harm by trying to play in it.

That was why she had chosen the particular location for the 'trap'. If she could not warn the others in time, there would still be a way of escape, as dangerous as it may be. Yet a trap was better than death by the hand of a trusted friend.

That was the other issue…it was clear that the sheriff had twisted Robin's mind, had made him believe things that were not true. Belief as strong as that was hard to shake, but she had to try. For her sake, for Robin's, for all of England even. How the poor would suffer if Robin could not remember who he was.

She made her way quickly, not even pausing to change into proper gear for riding. If she was going to make it in time there was need for haste. The stable hand looked at her in surprise when Marian requested a horse, questioning her garment as well.

"It is not a long ride," she assured him, "I will be well."

She urged him to hurry, as much as she dared. Attention was the last thing she wanted to draw to herself, and so used the excuse of having to meet a friend back in Knighton as an excuse. No one would question her returning to the village that she grew up in.

It was hard to wait, Marian knowing full well that with every passing moment Robin was returning closer to camp. There was no telling what the outlaw would do if she was to warn them all of the plan in his presence. She was supposedly helping him, and the sheriff. What would he do when he learned she truly wasn't?

The real Robin would be accepting, but this strange new man that had taken his place may not be. He had seemed indifferent, uncaring, and willing to trust the very man that wanted him dead. That alone was frightening, for who knew what other lies they had told him?

Even so, there was still a spark of hesitation in his eyes. She had seen it, however brief it had been. It had happened at the mentioning of killing the men. It was a golden opportunity; it proved that he hadn't changed entirely. It only meant that he could not remember. It was something she could play off, something she could use. But she would need to speak with him alone. That would be fairly easy, she decided. He had listened to her once, he would listen again. He just had to.

Finally the steed was ready, the young boy tightening the last of the straps and leading the horse before her. He offered a hand to help her out, and she accepted, playing the role of a woman who wasn't quite sure of what to do. With a quick gesture of gratitude she urged the horse into a trot, maintaining the maddening speed until she was out of Nottingham and well into the forest. That alone took much longer than desired, but the need to make certain no attention was being drawn her way was too powerful to ignore. heather heart was pounding along with the hooves, and already it was high noon. Robin would be close to camp by now.

As she turned off the main trail, she gave the area one last look, and thrust the reigns with a sharp command. The horse took off at once, moving faster at her urging. He knew the lay of the land, one of the very reasons Marian had chosen him. More than once had Robin stolen this horse, and the animal had a plentitude of practice in racing over the sloping and uneven ground.

Her mind was thinking fast, coming up with what she would say to the others when she arrived. There would be little time, if any, to explain herself, and the chances of them believing her right away were fair at best. She had never led them astray before, and Marian was counting on that to help in her favor. It was the only thing she could rely on at the moment.

And the only real question that remained with her was the one that mattered the most. Would she make it in time?

**TBC**


	12. Plans in Motion

**Thanks once again goes to my beta, Kegel, who not only edits my stories, but puts up with my absurd ideas. Make sure to thank her for all her troubles! :D**

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**Chapter 12: Plans in Motion**

Allan had been right. Getting into the castle was no difficult task. Nor was leaving it once more. Though Robin could attribute that to Sir Guy's inclination to pull the guards off to give him more time. Even so, Robin wasted none of it, returning to the Inn where the other man was keeping himself entertained with a few coins, and a mug of ale.

"Thought you'd be longer," Allan remarked gruffly, draining the mug with one swig. Robin said nothing, only waiting for the man to collect his belongings before leading the way out once more. His mind was enslaved by the most recent of meetings. Not only by what he must do, but also by the fair maiden he had met once more.

How he hated to admit it, but the truth of her proposal, of who she belonged to, was toying with his heart. It didn't feel right; but what could he do to change it? The answer, of course, was nothing at the moment. Maybe with time he could win her over, if there was enough time before the two became married, that was.

Robin was dimly aware of others joining them; each of them had been waiting in various places of Nottingham. To spy on him, or to help his escape like they claimed he could not be sure. The journey back to camp was a long one on foot, and it gave him plenty of time to string together a plausible story. There was talk among them, but Robin hardly paid any heed.

Camp was a welcoming sight, a feeling of safety among them as they settled into their places. Robin found himself at the entrance of the humble little home, leaning against one of the braces as he gathered his thoughts. What was he to say? Would they even trust him?

"You've been quiet. Is there anything wrong?"

It was Much who had interrupted his thoughts, the other man watching him with a bit of a frown. Robin nodded, acknowledging the comment, and trying to grasp what to say in return. Finally he nodded, clearing his throat. It was now or never. If he waited any longer his courage would be gone.

"We need to go to Nottingham."

"Nottingham?" Much cried, "But we just came from there!"

"Or did you forget that?" Allan added to the conversation. He was slumped up against one of the walls, tossing a bag of coins from one hand to the next with a slight grin. "Not being funny of course, but I wouldn't mind another round in the inn."

"You and your trivial games," Robin sighed, straightening himself. The remark came forth not from spite, but more to hide the fact he had already made a mistake. Yet what else was he supposed to do? Either to slay them all by his own hand, or lead them into the trap. Enough blood had already been spilt on his account.

He had turned away for a moment, and then back to them, arms crossed before his chest. "Well? What is it to be? Must I go alone?"

"What did you find inNottingham?" Djaq pressed him.

He watched her, his lips pressed into a thin line. He was still troubled over the fact she was a woman; men he could easily lead to their deaths, but did a woman deserve the same fate? He drew in a breath, reminding himself of what they had done. There were people out there that needed protection from the likes of these criminals. There wasn't a choice.

What was it that had been said? Someone of importance, that was right…

"The sheriff is holding someone captive; I need to free him."

"Who?"

"Must you question everything?" he snapped in return to Much's question. He could tell by the look on the man's face, and the sudden stillness, that he had crossed a line. It felt as though no matter what he said or did, somehow it didn't feel right.

"Forgive me," he apologized quietly, regaining some of his lost composure. "My mind is busy; there's a lot that needs to be done."

"You found this out from Marian?" Djaq wondered, as if hardly fazed by what had just been said.

The question caught him off guard, for how did they know about the fair maiden? Did they know that he was leading them into a trap? He was caught in the midst of a panic, trying to swallow his fears and come up with a response. Subconsciously his eyes came to rest on the sword that rested against a nearby tree. It would prove more useful than the small dagger he had. He could get it if it needed to be, but how many could he fight all on his own?

"Of course he found it out from Marian," Allan broke in with a snort. The response saved Robin from doing anything particularly reckless. "What, you think that Gisborne just wandered up to him and told him this?"

Robin was watching him closely now, as if the other was hiding a secret that none of the others knew. But if there was something, Robin could not see it. He had little time to dwell on it, for another question was already being asked.

"Any idea on who it is? If Marian passed the message along to you, then surely it is someone important. A lord perhaps?"

"His name is…Guy," Robin fell over his own words, coming up with the first name that lingered on his mind. A difficult task when you hardly could remember those around you. His choice in words, however, hadn't been the greatest. There was amusing laughter around the camp, Allan shaking his head.

"Gisborne? The sheriff has Gisborne locked up now? And you want to go and save him?"

"No…"

"Why would he want to save him?" Much argued, "It is obviously someone different. There can be more than one…Guy…in all of England."

"In all of Nottingham, too?"

"Why would Robin risk his life to save someone that wants him dead?"

"Enough," Robin broke in before the fight could escalate. "I do not even know if that is his real name. All I know is that we must try and rescue him."

"Well, why didn't we rescue him while we were still there?"

"Because, we need to rescue him tomorrow night."

"Tomorrow?" Will broke in, a frown on his face. "You know what the sheriff likes to do with his victims. We should go now."

"Well, he won't be there until tomorrow."

"What's this?" Allan was shaking his head. "He's not going to get himself arrested until tomorrow? Not being funny, all right, but that doesn't make any sense at all."

"They already arrested him," Robin corrected himself. The story was getting harder and harder to tell. They didn't believe him… "They're taking him to Nottingham."

"From where? Even the furthest shire can reach Nottingham in a day's travel on horseback. Unless they're making the prisoner walk."

"Well, maybe that's what they're doing," Robin responded sarcastically. "But I do know that he will be in Nottingham, tomorrow night. There's a lower dungeon that the sheriff has picked out specifically for him. It'll take some work, but we must rescue him somehow."

"Why not intercept him on the road, before he gets to Nottingham," Much suggested. "If Marian knows that he is coming, surely she knows by which route. That would be safer and easier than sneaking in and out of the castle."

"We go to Nottingham. That's the safest route. There are too many alternative paths to take, and surely the guards will be on patrol waiting for us to move in. Once at the castle they'll think he's safe. Perfect opportunity."

"Sounds complicated to me," Much argued, but stopped upon seeing his face.

"We're going," Robin warned him. "That's my final word."

The other man fell silent, and it spread across the camp. No one was much for talking now, and it made him nervous. How was he to know if they fell for his ploy, as unbelievable as it was?

"We will leave at midday tomorrow; that should give us enough time. Sneak in under the cover of darkness; Allan, you're in charge for finding a way in and out. I'll follow up behind the rest of you…make sure that no one is following us."

"I'm coming," Will moved to his feet, staring at him. "To Nottingham this time. I won't stay behind any longer."

"Of course," Robin nodded readily. The truth was that he could leave no one behind. There would only be one chance at this.

"Of course?" Much frowned, "In all the other times you never let him come once; now he's hurt worse and you want him to come?"

"Much," Will warned, but he wasn't able to say anything more.

"I need everyone," Robin pointed out. "Besides...we should trust each other more. I am asking you to trust me on this..."

"Of course we trust you."

Robin nodded back at Will, the other man smiling. He felt confident again, knowing that his plan had worked. In another day's time, he would be free of this life, and no longer would have to worry about watching his back.

"Well, I don't. He's lying," Much frowned.

It made Robin start. Out of everyone, someone had seen through his lie. All his work, everything he had done, it had all been for nothing. Robin's eyes flicked over to where the sword was lying. All it would take was one step, and he'd be able to reach it. Subconsciously his hand tightened into a fist as he readied himself to move.

"What do you mean?"

It was John who had spoken this time, the giant silent throughout the entire exchange before. The smaller man snorted, frowning still.

"It's madness; he's not in any shape to go gallivanting off in the castle, neither is Will. Least of all to save someone we don't even know. We should just stay here."

"And let an innocent man die?"

"How do we know if he's innocent?" Much wondered. "He was arrested after all."

"We've all been arrested, Much," Will took the time to point out. "If it was any of us, you'd be coming."

"Not anyone," he argued, "You, yes, Robin and Little John, and Djaq, of course. But Allan…"

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing," the man smiled innocently, "nothing at all."

"Enough," Robin broke in before it could spiral out of control. Already Allan had moved to his feet, but he held back at Robin's word. With a sigh the outlaw closed his eyes. Something would have to be done about Much…and before the man ruined everything.

"We all need to rest," he made a point of eyeing Will, the one who the weakest in the group. "We make preparations in the morning, head out at midday."

There was a pause here, as he gathered his breath, summoning his courage to keep his voice from betraying his true intentions. "Much? Can we talk?"

"What is it?" the other man was on his feet instantaneously, worry in both his eyes and in his voice. "Is something wrong?"

Robin forced a smile, shaking his head. "Nothing; I just need…can I speak with you as a friend?"

The worry dissipated, but only just slightly, but the man nodded. "Of course you can." He bent over to retrieve his weapons, but stopped as Robin waved it off.

"No need to bring something that will slow you down. We won't go far."

* * *

She had been riding for only a short time when she first sensed them. It was more of a feeling, rather than anything tangible. At first Marian convinced herself that it was her own worry playing tricks on her, that the shadows only danced before her eyes because she could not breathe properly. Not with all this fear running through her veins.

Yet as the worry settled in she could not ignore it; she pulled off the path and back into the main road. If there was someone following her, she could not risk leading them to camp. Twice she took a glance behind her, wondering if perhaps it was Robin himself that was following. Maybe he caught up in business within the town, and was late returning. Her hopes were diminished on the second glance, for it was not Robin, but rather a group of guards on horseback.

That alone wasn't anything out of the usual. Several groups were deployed on a regular basis, mostly under Guy's command traveling between Locksley and Nottingham to collect taxes, or even to spy on the village. The man was adamantly worried that the populace was going to revolt, despite Marian's assurance on how silly of a notion that was. Not to mention foolish. Guy would not hesitate to dispose of anyone that threatened him and the others knew it as well.

Yet any guards, Gisborne's or not, would question her odd travel if she was to dart suddenly back into the forest. She slowed her horse some more, praying they would pass without questioning to her horse's state. It was probable, since most of the guards could care less about how human or beast was treated.

That was when she first noticed it. That when her pace slowed, theirs did as well. They were far enough back that one could see them in the shadows if one really paid heed, but if one was in a hurry, one would mistake them simply for tricks of light. It was almost as if they were trying to make themselves unnoticeable.

Marian brought her steed to an even slower pace, coming to a halt shortly after. She was nearing Hood's camp now, and the need to head there was desperate. Now her choice was to ride on, and actually venture into Knighton to make her story plausible, or use the excuse of the horse's lameness and head back to Nottingham. Returning back to the castle would make it more difficult to get free once more, and though she still had the chance of freeing Robin's men through the worn passageway she didn't want to weigh her only chances on that and that alone. For all she knew, the passageway may not even be accessible anymore.

Knighton was still a good ride away, and her worry was that the horse would not make it the distance without a rest. The camp was close enough to reach on foot, so if she had to abandon the horse then she would. But the question of what to do about the guards came up. Upon seeing her stop they continued a slow pace. Perhaps to not make her worry, but that was a difficult task that was not working.

She would wait, let them pass, and then decide on a course of action. The liability of exposing Robin's camp was too great. It was a secret that Guy and the sheriff could never know. The sheriff, at the least, would not rest until it was destroyed, and all the men caught and killed. Either way was proving to be dismal at the best.

The guards caught up with her easily, slowing their horses to a halt as the watched her. Marian let out a small smile, giving them a warm greeting as she eased herself from the saddle. "Gentlemen, is there something I can help you with?"

"You should not be out here alone," the lead guard cautioned her. "With outlaws and thieves about; there's no telling what might happen."

"I thank you for your concern," she nodded to them. "I simply lost track of time and my horse grew weary. I will be heading back to Nottingham here shortly, once he has rested."

"I do believe Sir Guy would be rather upset if he knew you were out here by yourself."

"Sir Guy is not my keeper," Marian replied bitterly, her eyes narrowing. So it had been Guy that had sent them. Unsurprisingly; he had probably seen her departure, and sent the men to keep eye one his new fiancé. Touching, it was, as much as it was disgusting. Marian could already see her future as his wife being one that was very limiting in freedom. She would have to work on that.

One of the men had dismounted, moving up to her now. Although she wasn't afraid she found herself pulling back. He was nearly a head taller, his eyes watching her from beneath his helmet. "And what do you do? What would you offer to keep us silent about your whereabouts?"

"I have nothing to offer you," she responded firmly, "and I need no one to keep secrets for me, for I have none to hide. Let me be on my way, or I wonder what Sir Guy would say about your impudency?"

"One threat with another? How amusing that you think the sheriff would listen to the word of a mere lady over that of his own personal guards."

So they were not sent by Guy…but instead by the sheriff. That alone was nerve-wracking, to know that that the sheriff had taken an interest in her. Or was this merely by chance, a group of men on some other errand who had found what they thought to be an easy target?

The first man moved to touch her, his fingers brushing along the bare skin just above her dress. The contact brought her to awareness, and Marian reacted without thought. She struck out, catching him in the face just below the curve of his helmet with the side of her fist. It was enough to knock him back, but it did little else than anger him. And the others as well.

Marian ducked behind the head of her horse, using the creature's body to give her a chance to regain her composure. She did not like to fight so openly, but neither was she going to give in to their demands. She had a right to protect herself, even if that drew unwanted attention. When they approached she kicked out, missing the first time as they dodged her move, but with a second strike she sent one sprawling backwards.

There were a total of four around her, three if you only counted the ones standing. The fourth, poor miserable man was still trying to get to his feet after being bested by none other than a lady. Her attention lingered only momentarily on him, turning to face the others that were quickly backing her into a corner. One had actually drawn his sword. The others were either too stupid to follow suit, or they foolishly believed they needed no arms for protection.

She was moving again, kicking one square in the gut, faltering only when another grasped her by the arm. She turned, twisting in his grip, ducking under him as the man with the sword struck out. The hilt of the blade connected square with the man's arm that was holding her. With a cry he released her, shouting angry words at the first man and moving to retaliate.

Marian used the distraction to her advantage, mounting quickly on her own bewildered steed. He was still worn, but the scent of fear lingered heavily in his nostrils and already he was rearing back and ready to move. No sooner had she jerked the reigns than a hand fell on her ankle, strong fingers piercing into her flesh. She gave a shout, more of alarm rather than pain, as the grip held fast, the horse dancing beneath her. The motion caused her to slip, and the ground caught her hard and heavy.

For a moment she found it hard to breathe, not only was the wind knocked from her in the fall, but now the same man that had pulled her from the saddle was kneeling on her, trying to still her thrashing. With an angry glare he moved to yell at the others, who were now fully locked in a fight amongst themselves. But they never heard the cry, the man never spoke a single word.

Instead he was gazing, quite confoundedly, down at his chest where the shaft of an arrow protruded. Blood was already staining the area of penetration, and though it had to hurt quite badly the man made no motion of it causing any agony. Instead he reached up, pressing fingers against it tenderly, before swaying to one side.

Marian moved out from under him only moments before he collapsed, his very death alerting the others to the true nature of their situation. Another arrow flew from out of the trees, striking another guard straight in the neck. Even as he staggered, the third man was racing for his horse, a feeble attempt to escape. He never made it, the horse rearing as the arrow grazed the animal before burying itself in the man that was trying to flee.

Marian could only watch, shocked but unable to feel much compassion for the men who had just met their end. She knew that Robin and his men avoided killing when possible, but with the latest turn of events, there was little that surprised her.

"Marian? Are you well?"

It was Djaq that pulled her to her feet, Marian mumbling something that she herself could barely understand. Her heart was still racing, her appearance a real mess, but those were things she would ponder on later.

"Why were they following you?"

"I don't know," she shook her head, "they came out of nowhere, but they were the sheriff's men."

"One of them got away," Will announced, he was holding his arm timidly where it was bound, fingers cluthed around the bow. Marian knew that the last arrow almost missed its mark because of the wound. She reached for his arm, stopping as he pulled away. "It needs time to heal," he told her.

"What happened?"

She had been with them only the day before, and he bore no such wound. Living in the forest was a dangerous deal; but not so dangerous that one just ended up with wounds so suddenly. She saw him grimace, the other quiet as he answered.

"Robin gave us a bit of a scare; but that's over and done with."

"Robin!"

She suddenly remembered why she had come. Glancing around she could not see him, only the two of them there. "Where is he?"

"He and Much went off somewhere," Will shrugged, "come back to camp with us, he'll be sure to return shortly. Evening is not too far off, and Much can't stand to miss a meal."

"You don't understand," she shook her head. "All of you are in danger."

"Danger?"

"The sheriff is using Robin; he's sent him to lead all of you into a trap."

"Robin wouldn't betray us," Will shook his head.

"He can't remember who he is," she argued, looking from one to the other. "Somehow the sheriff's gotten him to believe that he works for him. Tomorrow he's going to lead you into a trap."

"So there is no lord," Will shook his head.

"That was my idea," she breathed, explaining quickly, "in case I couldn't reach you in time. There's a hidden passageway; I would have been able to get all of you out."

"Why would Robin believe anything the sheriff has said?"

"Why would I lie to you?"

"It's not your word I mistrust," Will told her quietly, "but rather what the sheriff could have done to him. How could Robin believe such lies?"

"I don't know," she shook her head, "I don't think he fully believes them. I saw him, in the castle, I spoke with him. He seemed…shaken, distracted. It's hard to describe."

"The same way he was with me," Will nodded, glancing over at Djaq who was listening quietly. "You knew all along."

"I had hoped I was wrong," she admitted meekly. It caused Marian to frown.

"You knew something like this could happen?"

"I had heard stories, yes," she nodded. "But then he came back, he knew who he was. We believed he had gone off to find you."

"I shouldn't have gone," she whispered.

"There was nothing you could have done," Djaq reassured her. "Let us head back to camp. We will get this confusion sorted out."

Marian nodded, but it was Will who was standing still. A pallor color had come over his face, almost as if he had seen a spirit or a ghost. When Djaq touched him he turned to her quickly, his voice quick buy low. "I suddenly have a bad feeling."

Marian glanced around her quickly, wondering if he had seen or heard something. It was dangerous for her to stand in open surroundings conversing with outlaws. If anyone was to see…

"Robin seemed overly eager to get Much away from camp after he had asked all those questions."

Djaq nodded, "I saw as well…"

"Let us hurry then," Marian breathed, "and hope that they are silly fears, lest if we are too late to do anything about them."

* * *

It was silly, really, but Much couldn't help but feel this way. He knew that he and Robin were not as close as they once had been while off at war, but he still clung to the neediness of that friendship. So when Robin had offered a chance to talk, Much hadn't thought twice about it.

Times had even been more trying, with the splitting of the gang, and the man in the forest. It led to unanswered questions, and being a curious soul he was hopeful that Robin would share that knowledge with him. When Much first met Robin, nearly a decade ago, their relationship had been awkward. But Robin was unlike other men, and instead of profiling a lordly appearance as many nobles did, he was simply himself.

After a time, Much knew they would be more than lord and servant, and he was proven right. Robin had asked him to travel to the Holy Lands, and Much agreed without any thought. He would have followed even if Robin had forbade him to come. The five years spent on the road, that time now had diminished, but it was never forgotten. Not for him.

Robin had changed, for the better he knew, and Much could only hope to be like him one day. Though it was unlikely, for he was too much a coward and too unwilling to make sacrifices such as Robin. But he was glad that the man still considered him a friend even through his faults.

They walked up the ridge beyond the camp, pulling further away from the road. Robin said nothing, only leading the way, leaving Much to struggle with words. Sometimes it was a challenge to get the other man to start speaking, but once started, it was easy for him to finish.

"So Nottingham, then, tomorrow?"

Robin only nodded, coming to a pause to face him. They were a good way from the camp now, further than Much had expected to travel. Perhaps he was just testing the others, seeing if they would actually try and follow. The had done it before, not surprisingly, given the situations that had resulted before.

"One last time."

"One last time?" he let out a small chuckle, "What's that supposed to mean?"

He knew Robin had thought about leaving before, had almost done so when Marian nearly married Gisborne. The very thought had threatened to break the man; it was something Much couldn't comprehend. Eve was the closest thing to love he had ever found. And even then he found himself dismissing foolhardy thoughts in his head. She had done them all a great favor in reveling where the ledger for black powder was, she had said it was for him, but Much tried not to dwell on it often. Yet for Robin…

For Robin Marian was much different. It hurt Much to think that one day they would marry, and go off and leave him behind, but that was a fate he had to accept. He would have to enjoy the time now, what little of there that would be, with his friend before he lost him altogether.

This was the talk that worried him. Was Robin planning on leaving? Was that the reason for having to rescue this lord or noble, whomever it was, from the dungeons? Was it a favor for Marian perhaps? Was she to wed him? If so, would they then head out for a better part in the world? What would happen to Locksley then? And Bonchurch? Much knew he couldn't properly be a lord without Robin's help. He wouldn't even be a free man if Robin had not dubbed him so. These thoughts were consuming him, causing him both grief and worry. He wasn't ready to lose his friend…not this suddenly.

"I'm sorry, friend. I have no doubts that you are a good man, but there is no other way."

No other way? What did he mean by that? Much was about to ask, thoroughly confused by what was being said, but a shout from below caught his attention. It was quiet, but there, and Much had heard a cry like that all too often.

"There's trouble, at the road," Much turned to leave, to make his way down but was stopped by a hand on his shoulder. He turned, expecting Robin to lead as he always did. The man had better knowledge of the forest or so it seemed. But Robin wasn't watching the road, nor was he making any motion to venture down there.

"Master…the others…they might need our help."

"Please forgive me," he whispered, the words drawing even more confusion into the man. That was when Much saw it, the glint of the blade caught in the evening sun. There was little he could do save for watch, as Robin raised his arm, the slightest hesitation of a pause staying his hand, before striking at him, the dagger cutting through the air.

**TBC**


	13. Taking a Chance

**Another thanks to Kegel! Love the reviews, another quick chapter as a result. Leave your thoughts on the way out!**

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**Chapter 13: Taking a Chance**

Much probably was a good man. The fact being he had only made some poor decisions. That was how it happened most of time, he believed. Robin could have let him live; could have chanced it, allowed him to be executed with the others. Yet he was certain the other man would have given something away. Already he had asked too many questions, had found too many flaws in the logic Robin had first suggested.

No…it had to be this way. He led him away from the camp, far enough away that if there were any shouts heard, no one would reach them in time. The only problem lay in trying to find an excuse to cover the man's sudden departure. And to explain all of the blood.

He couldn't do it…not without trying to explain. Not without trying to make the other understand his predicament. Robin was trying to do what was right; it didn't mean that it was easy. Still, the utter shock in the other's eyes was alarming. Yet anyone would look just a such, he supposed, when facing immanent death.

Robin expected it to be over in mere seconds; for the blade to bury itself deep in the chest and cut through flesh and bone. It would pierce his heart quickly; there would be little pain, albeit a bit of shock. Safe to say that his death would come much swifter and easier than those of the others. Perhaps he was the most fortunate then.

As quick as he was, the other man was quicker. He stumbled back, the blade narrowly missing him, his feet becoming entangled on the terrain below. Falling, he didn't stop, scooting back on hands and feet as Robin came at him again.

"Master? What are you doing?!"

Robin didn't answer, couldn't answer, his teeth tightly clenched as he forced himself to go forward. It was now or never; Much would tell the others if he got away, and if he kept carrying on the way he was now he would alert the entire forest, let alone the camp.

Striking out again brought another close call, forcing the man even further back until he was pinned against a tree. He could easily dodge, but the motion would bring him closer to Robin and the knife. Slowly he shook his head as the archer approached, eyeing him with an emotion that could not be explained. A mixture of not only fear, but utter betrayal.

This wasn't right; there was another hesitation in him, Robin trying to control his emotions. The disbelief on the other's face was real; a true emotion. Something like that could not be faked. But if these were his enemies, surely they would expect him to fight.

_They will try to trick you…_

The voice came back, the warning crisp and severe. If he let his guard down now, there was no telling of what would happen…

He brought the knife up again, whispering under his breath, "Do not make this harder than it has to be."

Robin was about to strike when he heard the slightest of noises behind him. He had only enough time to turn, enough time to see something sailing his way, cutting through the air at an alarming speed. Then there was nothing but darkness.

* * *

He wasn't sure why he had followed them. It was only a feeling, simple and secluded, but life in the forest had told him long ago that such simple feelings should not be ignored. They were, after all, one of the sole reasons he was still alive after all of this time.

John had lived here longer than any of the others. Had once been in command of a band of thieves, and took part in poor sport of robbing from any and everyone who crossed their paths. That time, of course, was long behind him, as he fought beside Robin now, to try and end suffering everywhere. It was a hard challenge, with little pay, and that was the reason all the other men had left. John could have easily gone with them, but he chose to stay. He could even admit that he enjoyed this life, despite the fact his family had gone on without him. To see them safe, and happy, John was willing to do the same for others, and see that happiness in them as well.

He was a simple man, who acted in simple matters, and the choice to follow the pair had been simple as well. Something told him that he should go, and he never argued with what he believed to be common sense. And it was a good thing he chose to go.

He heard, rather than saw it all at first. John expected many of things to happen, but he hadn't expected this. Out of everyone in the gang, he least expected Robin to turn against them. He knew there were prices on all of their heads, knew that anyone could live reasonably well on the profit they would make if they turned everyone in. Yet even he expected everyone to hold to a sort of honor or code. Apparently Robin didn't think the same.

John found them; Robin standing over Much, the other man's back pressed hard against a tree. He would only have seconds to live unless something happened. There was no time for elaborate plans, and he wasn't a man of much action. He handled things as he saw fit, quick and easy. And in no time he had caught up with them, heaving his staff with all of his strength.

There was a swift crack, not even enough time for the man to register what was happening before he collapsed. The dagger he once held fell from his hands, landing on the ground below clean and bare. John glanced from where Robin lay to where Much still sat, his eyes wide with shock.

"What did you do that for?!"

John was taken aback; the question seemed absolutely absurd. "He was….trying to kill you!"

"Well, you didn't have to hit him so hard!" Much scrambled to his feet, moving to Robin's side. He reached out, a hand resting on the prone man's shoulder.

"Not sorry," John growled quietly, upset over the fact he hadn't even garnered a single 'thank you' for his efforts. Instead, it had been more blame.

"He's not dead; lucky for you, you could have killed him."

The truth was he still wanted to. No one deserved to live once they were a traitor. Loyalty was important, more so than anything else. John leaned against his staff, saying nothing as he watched Much tend to Robin.

"Help me carry him back to camp."

"No."

Much stopped in the midst of trying to lift the man. "What do you mean no?"

"He's not one of us anymore."

"You can't kick Robin out of his gang…there's a law against it. At least I think there is…"

"First Will, now you. How long do we have to wait before he tries to kill all of us?"

"He's tried to kill Gisborne before. You didn't hate him then!"

"That's different," John shook his head. Comparing an enemy's life to that of a supposed friend was ludicrous at the best. "Take him to Nottingham where he can hang, or leave him here."

"You can't…leave him here," Much pleaded, even as he turned to depart.

John wouldn't listen, didn't care to listen. He didn't feel too keen on allowing a man to stay that obviously wanted them dead. He valued his life more than that. But as he made his way back to camp, he could see the others coming, and felt a deep sigh rising up in him. The others would argue against him, he knew. They were all fools then…

He did have to admit he was surprised to see Marian there. Then again, what surprise was it really? She came often out into the forest, to visit with Robin before she had left. Why would it be any different now? Yet what would she say when she found out? Her heart would be broken, and John felt guilty for her sake. He could not lie, and even if Much didn't tell the full truth she would still know about Robin's devious deed.

Coming to stop he drew in a breath, ready to explain, but they all pushed past him. So much for wanting to listen to reason. He turned, watching them hurry up the rest of the hill, then with a sigh, followed them back up. By the time he made it up there, Marian was on the ground with Much, Djaq pushing the other man away so that she could get a better look as well.

"What happened?" Will glanced first at Much and then back at John.

"It was his fault," Much accused, pointing a finger towards him.

"My fault?" he couldn't believe what he was hearing. "I only saved your life!"

"It was a…misunderstanding, yes, that's all. A misunderstanding."

"He was trying to kill you!"

"Well…I'm sure…I'm sure he didn't mean it."

"Much is right," Marian breathed.

"I am? I mean, of course I am….why?"

"The sheriff's been using him," she explained quietly. Even John had to lean forward in order to hear her full explanation. Even hearing the words from her, from someone he trusted, the story didn't seem real or even more believable. He found himself shaking his head, a scowl on his face.

"We trusted him," John pointed out quietly. "He betrayed us."

"Unknowingly," Marian was quick to chastise him. "The sheriff saw an opportunity and used it to his advantage. Robin was nothing more than a pawn in his game."

"What do we do?"

It was Will who asked the question, and it was a very good one indeed. John still felt that it was appropriate to leave the man there, traitor by choice or not. How could they ever trust him again? But he said nothing, knowing that others would not agree. They were still too blinded by Robin's leadership, too willing to follow even when he himself was not leading.

"We can't just let him go," Allan pointed out. "I mean, who knows what he'll do."

Will shook his head sadly. "So what then? We just…keep him…locked up forever? Is there even a way to undo all that's been done?"

"There might be," Djaq nodded, turning to the others. "Come, let us work before he wakes."

* * *

For some strange reason, his head only seemed to hurt worse each time he woke. At some point, Robin wasn't even sure if that was possible or not. For now, though, he could only find himself wishing for the ache that had been with him previously. Now it felt as though his entire skull had shattered, and he made the pain obviously known to the others that were around.

"See, I told you that you hit him too hard."

"Not hard enough."

Robin found himself swallowing, forehead pressed against his knees. He was back against a tree, his arms pulled tautly behind him with little room to move. The rope allowed him enough room to turn his hands, the bonds rubbing against his wrists, but there was little else that could be done. There wasn't even enough slack to stand. Not that he was that particularly ambitious at the current moment.

There was a cup that was offered, but Robin turned his head from it. His mind was still reeling, cluttered thoughts clinging onto one another without any real emotion. The plan had failed, he had been discovered, and now he was to die for it. For some strange reason, however, Robin didn't feel the fear or panic that his mind was logically telling he should feel. Instead he was quite irritated, if more from the agony, or the position he found himself in, he wasn't quite sure.

"It'll help with the pain," Djaq brought the cup near once more, but Robin made no show of moving to drink from it.

"To kill me, you mean," he stated pointedly.

"If we wanted you dead, we would have killed you already," Will responded. He was near the others, the group themselves sitting off to one side. They were all watching him, inspecting him. Another groan escaped his lips as he closed his eyes. Of course they didn't want him dead, they wanted answers. What answers could he possibly give? They already knew that he was working for the sheriff, already knew that he was sent to kill them . What other knowledge could they possibly want to gain?

"It is not poison," Djaq reassured him, but it didn't earn any favors from him. With a sigh she set the cup down, moving to her feet. "Whenever you are ready then."

He said nothing in return, his only focus on breathing, and working around the pain. Once that subdued, then he could work on a manner of escape. That in itself was unlikely for he had fallen into the very trap he had been warned about. What a fool he had been, he should have listened to the others. His doubt had led him to his own demise.

"I should have killed you all when I had the chance," he breathed angrily.

"I told you," John spat, standing swiftly. "He's a traitor; he deserves nothing more than to hang."

"What would that accomplish, for anyone?"

Robin hadn't seen her until now, and he had to admit it was quite a shock. What would a lady such as herself be doing this far out amongst a band of thieves? He found himself at a loss for words, occupying his time instead by burying his face into his knees.

"Our lives," John answered.

"And think of all the others that could be saved without your treacherous ways," Robin spat out in return.

"What makes you think that these men here have done any wrong?" Marian pressed him, ignoring John's earlier comment. "Are you so free to judge who should and should not live?"

_You're a killer now?_

_Only when I have to be…_

The memory was sudden, sharp, a crease of pain shooting through him. He tried to grasp it, but it made no sense. He had been angry…no, furious. But why? The others were talking, saying something he had missed entirely. They hadn't even noticed he wasn't paying attention.

That was because they weren't talking to him, only to one another. Several of them were leaving, taking bows and swords, moving down the hill. They meant to leave him here. To sacrifice him to the elements or even offer him up as a tasty morsel to a passing creature. He would not die, not like this.

"Untie me," he demanded at the pair that had lingered behind.

Will hardly paid him any heed, and Marian hushed him quietly with a movement of her hand. "They'll hear you," she whispered.

Who would hear him? Robin found himself straining to try and see where the others had gone. That was when he heard it, the faint clopping of a horse's gait, the aggravated sounds of a creature being forced to move at a hurry.

"They must have sent more guards to find the others," Marian whispered.

"We moved them all off the road," he answered back. "They'll have to dig the brush to find them, if they ever have the patience. They'll be looking for you; you should go."

"I'm not leaving, not this time. When this is all sorted out, I'll head to Knighton, claim that I had spent my time there."

That was when Robin fully understood; there were guards on the road. They were coming to help…but they would find him all the way up here…not unless…

"I'm up here!" he cried, struggling with a renewed fervidity to free himself from his confinements. It garnered him a quick reaction, the pair on him quickly.

"Robin! Calm yourself! We're not going to harm you," Will was whispering fiercely, his gaze moving between him and the road.

"If they find us, we'll all be dead," Marian added just at quietly. He didn't listen, or rather didn't hear, calling once more, desperate to make as much noise as possible. The others had reason to fear being caught. He was already bound, and thus could not find himself in any worse situation than he already was.

"Please….Robin…," Marian turned to him, visibly shaken. Her pleadings had fallen on deaf ears, for Robin was in no mood to listen. If he had a chance, any chance, then it was here, it was now.

He didn't stop, not even as Will approached, kneeling down to his level. There was agitation, clear and unmasked on his face, and grimaced as he turned first to Marian, and then back to Robin.

"This is going to hurt."

* * *

Marian had been right. It had been more guards. Whether they had come to find her or their fallen comrades, or had been on a completely different mission altogether, Djaq could not tell. They would have passed by unknowingly, for they made no move to stop, when the cry came.

It had spooked all of them. Surprise was the most favored element in an attack, yet now they had no choice but to engage. It was a type of fight they often tried to avoid; none of the guards would survive. It marked the second time in less than a day's time that the forest of Sherwood had seen blood. The cries of the battle quickly overcame that of cry from the trees, but more alarming that that cry itself was the lack of it when the last guard fell.

"Take the horses," she nodded at the others, knowing that the creatures would venture home on their own. A riderless horse was the last thing she wanted the sheriff or Gisborne to see. It would tip them off that something had gone ill indeed. Having both horse and rider disappear bought them precious time.

"He'll get us all killed," John warned her as they turned to move back up the hill.

The statement was laced with anger, and she could understand where some of it came from. But she could not blame Robin for something he could not control. "Is it his fault that he cannot remember?"

"Is that what you will say when we face the hangman's noose?" he wondered.

She said nothing, only gripping the reigns of one of the horses as she led them back up to the camp. Allan and Much brought the other two closely behind, and they tied the trio off at the base of the hill. They would have room to forage there and be content, at least until the others figured out where to take them. The villages were always in need of a good horse or two.

She turned, letting out a sigh as she saw the sight before her now. Robin was unconscious once more, now adorned with a makeshift gag from the fabric of Marian's dress. The woman herself was sitting opposite of the man, consoling Will who sat near her. There were only a few guesses of what had happened, and Djaq first made her way to Robin, before turning to Will.

She grasped his good hand gently, already seeing the bruise that was forming there before he pulled away. She gave him a small, sad smile as she sat near him. "You will fall apart soon I do believe."

"What else was I supposed to do?"

"You did well," she encouraged him, knowing that choice had not been easy. Her gaze lingered on Robin, her mind filled with endless possibilities of what was to come. She had hoped, that when faced up against them all that he would listen to reason. But the man's mind seemed to be made up, and there was little hope in changing that fact.

"What do we do?" Will asked her quietly, breaking into her thoughts.

"What do you mean?"

"If we can't…if he doesn't remember who he is…we can't just leave him tied up here in the forest for the rest of his life."

"No," she said sullenly, already knowing where his thoughts were heading.

"And we can't let him go free…"

"What are you saying?"

Much hadn't said anything since the fight, preoccupied with own thoughts. Yet apparently not enough for he had picked up on their quiet conversation.

"We would have to do what Robin would want…the real Robin. If it were any of us that this had happened to…what would he have done?"

"You don't mean…." Much was shaking his head. "Kill him? You can't!"

"We may not have any other choice," Djaq spoke quietly.

"Everything is a choice," Marian added, "but this time I think I may actually agree with you."

"What?!"

"I would rather Robin die as a man who fought for justice, and not some lie. That is what he would want as well. The sheriff has worked his lies well; it's had a deep affect on him. I don't know if we can shake that."

"So, just kill him then?" Much demanded angrily, "give up all hope, forget everything he's done?"

"We're not giving up, Much," her smile was sad, but firm. "We're just accepting that things may not work out how we want them to in the end."

"You can't," he shook his head. "I won't let you…you'll have to kill me first!"

"I wouldn't mind that actually…" Allan joked lightly, but silenced himself quickly at the glare that was casted his way.

"Enough of that talk for now," Marian shook her head, trying to bring them all out of gloomy thoughts. "What are we going to try?"

Djaq found everyone looking her way, causing her to feel vulnerable. They were looking for her guidance, but the truth was, she had nothing solid to offer. She had only heard of the stories; she had never seen it first hand. She shifted, clearing her throat as she came up with what to say.

"Sometimes…they say it happens backwards…"

"Backwards?" Allan shook his head. "That doesn't even make sense."

"Well…the memory is lost when the person is hit on the head…sometimes when they are hit again…it comes back."

"So we just keep hitting him until he remembers?"

"Bright idea, Allan," Much sneered, "why don't we practice on you, just to make sure it's safe."

"No one's hitting anyone," Marian cut them off, "unless absolutely necessary," she added, glancing at Will.

"They say, when one loses himself, that his friends and family speak with him, and sometimes he remembers."

"We tried that," Will shook his head. "He doesn't want to listen."

Much let out a grunt of frustration, moving to his feet. "It's not fair! If only we found him first when he didn't remember anything! We could have told him the truth, not a whole bunch of lies! Then we wouldn't even be in this mess!"

_When he didn't remember anything…_

Of course…that was it; the answer was so obvious it seemed absurd that she hadn't seen it before. She couldn't help the smile that crept on her face, or the relief that swept through her. She could not know if it would work or not, but it was better than any of the alternatives that anyone else had provided.

"What _if _ he didn't remember anything?" she pressed. "Then he would remember anything!"

"I think we established that already," Allan responded quietly with a frown of his own.

"No," she shook her head. "We make him forget again, forget everything. Then we tell him the truth!"

"That's it!" Much agreed readily, a smile breaking his face. A moment later, it disappeared. "How…how are we going to do that?"

"We could all take turns hitting him," Allan suggested.

"No," she shook her head. "A potion…I've never made it, but it can't be that difficult. It…confuses the drinker for a time. Not a long time, but maybe long enough to sort things out."

"What do you need?"

It was Marian who asked, but the others were attentive as well. They were grasping onto the smallest thread of hope, and willing to give anything a go. Djaq closed her eyes, trying to remember the formula she had once seen being used. One could not learn much from watching, and she always preferred to test out her new concoctions before having to heavily rely on them, but in this case she may not even have a chance.

"Berries," that was one of them, she could remember, "dark in color, and herbs…they smelled heavy, and rich. Some hot water, a clean bowl…"

"I know where berries are," Much said excitedly.

"We have some herbs in one of the stores," Will added, "Allan and I put them there only a week ago."

"Fetch them," Marian said with a nod, "I'll start the water."

* * *

She had tried to keep herself patient, to keep her worry at bay, but it was a difficult task. Evening was already stretching into night, and with each passing moment her story of plausibility was dwindling. She knew that Guy would be searching for her, even more so if the sheriff had gotten word of her encounter with the outlaws on the road.

Near them the horses were still content, neither knowing nor caring about what went on about them. The sheriff would wonder why they too had not returned. And all of this was for something they did not even know if it would work.

Marian glanced to where Djaq was busy, using a stone as base to mash the berries collected by Much, mixing the grime in a bowl. Every so often she would pause, dab a finger in the contents, and bring it up to her lips. She would taste it, ever so carefully, muse quietly for a moment, and then return to her task as quietly as she had been before. Marian had to admit the woman had a quick mind, and for that Marian was thankful.

It had saved her life, that one winter long ago when she had been stabbed. She knew Djaq's quick thinking had also saved Little John, as well as done a variety of unusual things that had given Robin and his men the upper hand. Now she was using her skill to try and bring back that man who had somehow disappeared.

Her gaze drifted from where she worked to where Robin was still bound and gagged. It was a hard sight to see, even more so within Robin's own camp. She knew the others felt the same, could see them glance his way only to turn again shortly after. The man was being treated no better than a common criminal, which in itself was a rather interesting irony given the fact that was what he was.

That was when she saw him move, the slightest motion of his head. It could have been nothing, but she edged closer to him. He let out a groan, which was expected considering the amount of pain he must have been in. It came out muffled through the gag. She knew he was fighting it, leaving her to wonder if he had ever been in such a position before.

"Keep him conscious," Djaq warned her, "he'll need to drink this when it cools."

She nodded, not taking her eyes off of him. He hadn't opened his eyes yet, but must have sensed someone was there watching him. Must have…because he opened them in the next moment, an angry solid stare meeting that of her own. It didn't last long, his gaze wavering as his head lowered once more. There was no doubt in her mind that he was hurting. Robin was always successful at hiding his hurts, and she was certain that was one thing that had not changed.

"You promise to not yell, I'll remove the gag," she bargained with him.

At first it seemed as though he hadn't even heard her. There was no response from him, no muffled grunt, no nod of the head. It was frustrating; she was offering him help, even if it was a small respite, and he was being an arrogant fool. Too ashamed of having his pride wounded. What was worse was the fact that she couldn't even scold him for it. The old Robin she could, the old Robin would have understood no matter how arrogant he had been. But this new man in his place…she couldn't even fathom of what might happen. It wasn't until she was about to pull away that he nodded.

"You promise?"

He nodded again, this time without pause. Hesitantly she reached up, freeing the cloth from his mouth but lingering there in case he should break his promise. He was silent though, uttering not even so much as a thank you. Instead he closed his eyes, his head coming to a rest on the tree behind him.

"He needs to drink all of this," Djaq said quietly, coming up behind her. The cup was pressed into her hand, and a single nod her way told Marian all she needed to know. They were trusting her with this task.

"Are you sure this will work?"

She was silent for a moment, before shaking her head. "I do not know."

"You don't know?" Much asked worriedly. "What could possibly happen? I mean…he's not going to die, is he?"

"No," Djaq shook her head quickly, turning towards him as she did so. "It'll make him sleep…then when he wakes we will know if it worked or not."

"Someone should test it out first," Much argued, "just in case…"

"He needs to drink all of it, or it will not work."

"What if…"

"It will work," Marian reassured the other man. She knew of his worry, could feel it herself, but she had faith in Djaq's work. She had had no choice but to trust her once before, and that trust had given her her life.

She turned now, facing back to Robin who made no indication of hearing any of what had just been said. Tentatively she reached out, touching his shoulder. He opened only one eye to glare at her, his hardened expression not changing.

"I won't drink it," he told her bitterly. "You'll have to kill me with your own hands; I won't be fooled into poisoning myself."

"It is no poison," Marian reassured him. "It will help."

"And whom will it help?" he wondered. "To me it seems like this is more for your own sake than it is mine. Why should I trust you?"

"Because," she whispered quietly, "you always have. You trust Sir Guy…and he trusts me. And so should you."

She had hoped the argument would work. In the man's befuddled mind there was little that made sense, having been put through one trial after another. Now he was asked to go against everything he believed to be true, only on the word of someone else. She could see him struggling with the comment in his mind, and for a time it almost seemed as if he would still refuse. If he wouldn't drink on his own, then they would have to force him to do so. That scenario could not possibly end on a cheery note.

Finally he relented with a nod, earning a much relieved sigh from her. "So be it; my life, or death, will be on your conscience then."

Now she wasn't so sure she wanted to go through with it. For she knew that if they could not rescue him from this invisible demon, then more dramatic measures would be taken. Could she live with that guilt if this didn't work?

The more important question was, could she live with herself for not trying everything possible? The answer was obvious, and with a breath to steady herself she held the cup to his lips.

He drank, pausing only to catch his breath in which she withdrew for a moment's time, then encouraged him to finish. No sooner than he had were the effects already taking place. He was growing weary, his eyes drooping, and within the next moment he was gone, pulled into a deep sleep.

She let the cup drop, feeling guilt and a mixture of hope, and praying with all her might that it would work. "How long?"

"He should sleep through the night," Djaq told her, retrieving the cup from the ground. "In the morning we will know."

**TBC**


	14. A Chance to Trust

**Shorter chapter than usual this time, but I was faced with either shorter or nearly twice as long. Hope you enjoy it all the same!**

**Thanks to Kegel for her help with this!**

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**Chapter 14: A Chance to Trust  
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It felt as though he dreamt of everything and yet nothing at all. It made no sense, and yet some dreams seemed so real. As though they had really happened. Then another would approach, void of any sense and dark in nature. Something inside of him was denying the truth and honesty that resided there, but how could one argue with what was real?

He heard voices, nameless faces, all merging together in one senseless picture he could not fully see. There was something wrong, he could feel it, but he could not explain. Nor could he escape from this strange sensation that seemed to hold him fast. He was trapped, somewhere deep inside of himself, unable to even grasp to the thread of consciousness long enough to right himself.

The voices came again, stronger this time, closer. Closer than they had been before. He felt the touch of a hand, pressed against his flesh, one that was tender, but it made him afraid all the same. He didn't know this touch, didn't know who was around. There was no telling if they were friend or foe, or what plans they had in store. His mind was warning him, telling him he needed to open his eyes, he needed to wake. There was something he had to do…but what was it?

The voices came once more, no, one voice, he could hear it better now. It was saying something, enticing him to follow, to listen. Perhaps he could hear it better if only he concentrated. No…he couldn't, he was too tired…why couldn't it just leave him be?

He gave in, letting the darkness consume him once more. It was too difficult, too far away, there just wasn't a way to reach the light. There was no way to face what was out there; who or whatever waited for him out there would just have to accept that fact. Friend or foe, he no longer cared what happened to him now. It was just easier this way…

Then there was something, something he couldn't describe. It awakened something inside of him, his thoughts became distracted. He knew what that was, but he couldn't find the name for it. It was warm, inviting, the aroma lingering in the air. He was hungry…when was the last time he had eaten?

Light greeted him first, dim and grey, the first signs of morning. Branches littered with leaves resided above him, moving gently in the wind. He was on his back; the dim realization didn't serve much comfort. There was little he could even remember. And much of what he did remember, he couldn't even be sure it was real.

"Robin?"

The voice again. He turned, merely a glance, meeting the gaze of another. A young maiden, her hair falling over her shoulders as she leaned near. He stared at her briefly for a moment, then tore his gaze away. He knew her…or so he thought he did. But what was her name? Why was she even here?

His gaze took him around the small area, some figures still asleep, bundled up in blankets. Others were moving about, but casting wary glances his way. Why would they do so? What was wrong? He tried to figure it out, but he could see nothing near that was a threat.

What he did find was another man, working near a fire. The man hadn't turned his way, his focus instead on what was over the fire. A small creature…that was where the smell was coming from. Suddenly it was something he wanted, but he didn't have the strength to move.

Hands were on him then , and he didn't fight as they pulled him from his back. In the next moment he found himself sitting, eyes closed at the sudden rush of blood. He felt entirely too worn for all of this commotion. The others must have known, for they didn't let him go, not until he opened his eyes again.

Sitting was easier once the initial dizziness had passed. He was on several furs, situated in the midst of a forest, surrounded by people he didn't know. Or at least couldn't remember…were they people he knew?

"Robin?"

He turned at the sound of his name. His name…yes, he could remember that. She was watching him again, the fair skinned woman. She seemed rather out of place, a woman among men, clothed in a dress in the midst of a forest. It seemed odd, and yet at the same time it didn't.

There was a cup in her hands, and he reached out to take it, feeling the dryness in his throat. But he couldn't, his hands were bound. The thick rope held them secure, giving him enough room to move his fingers, but little else. Why was he bound?

"Here," she caught his attention, bringing the cup to his lips. "Trust me."

He did, and the bittersweet taste washed away the soreness he found in his throat. Robin drank as much as she allowed, grateful for the respite. He muttered a quiet thanks, along with something else. She didn't hear him, he could tell by the look on her face.

"I'm hungry," he repeated, a little louder this time. He was watching the fire; the smell seemed even stronger now.

She had a pretty smile, he realized. Something he quiet enjoyed, despite the fact there was something in him that was warning him to take care. Something was still wrong…but he couldn't think of it now. He watched her gather a plate, allowed her to help him eat without protest. It felt strange…silly almost, but there was little he cared about at the moment.

"So how…how do we know?"

He had finished the last bit of food, had taken another drink of wine that was provided, and now sat hunched forward, head resting on his bound hands. He hadn't seen who asked the question, wasn't sure if he even really cared. These people…he knew them…somehow he knew them. He could see their faces in his mind, they had also been in his dreams. But could he trust them? Did he trust them?

"Robin?" It was her again…the one that helped him to eat. "What do you remember?"

What did he remember? That was a good question. There was so much he remembered…but he couldn't understand any of it. How could you make sense out of the senseless? They were still waiting for an answer, but all he could give them was the shake of his head.

"Well, he's not trying to kill anyone, that's a good sign."

"Allan," the voice was low, a warning perhaps. Robin found himself opening his eyes, watching the man who had just spoken. Allan…his name was Allan.

The man shrugged, "I'm just sayin'."

"Try," the lady encouraged him once more. "Tell us, anything that you can remember. You must remember…"

What could he say? He wanted to remember, it had nothing to do with what had to be done. It was for his own sake. If he could not even remember through his own desires though, how was he supposed to with anyone else's? Still he wanted to please her; he could feel it inside of him. He was just unable to explain the silly notion.

He closed his eyes again, trying to think, trying to concentrate. There was a man…there was something he was doing. The shouts could be heard, the cries…the smell of blood, of death…

"I killed someone," he breathed, the memory changing, shifting. There were more men, each face changing, shifting, their skin dark in color, pale like his own, all crying, the smell of death was overwhelming. "More than one someone."

"The war," one voice said. "Acre, he still dreams about it…or he used to."

_Acre…_that was where he had been wounded…the king had been under attack, he had sent Much for help. Robin opened his eyes, gazing at the other man. "Much…"

The man nodded eagerly, "Yes, he remembers!"

"A single name does not prove anything!" came another cry. He was a large man, broad and tall, his girth alone enough of a reason for most other men to fear him.

"John…"

"You see, he does remember!" Much was grinning, "It worked!"

"For all we know it could be another trick," Allan pointed out. "I mean…what if he is still working for the sheriff?'

The sheriff…

Memory slammed back into him then. The sheriff, Gisborne, the man in the castle. Everything came rushing back like a wave, crashing over him in one swift motion. He was in danger, these men, they all wanted him dead, they were going to torture him, he had to get away…

He had been a fool before. To trust them, to go against the orders he had been given. Given what had happened, the nature of his injuries and how he had sustained them should have been enough to convince him. Yet he had held onto a foolish notion that he could change things. He had waited too long…and now he was to pay for his ignorance.

"Robin?"

It was Marian that asked, her voice full of concern, she moved closer, reaching out.

"Do not touch me," he warned, his voice low and fierce. "I am not the fool you perceive me to be."

What would they do? Whatever they had given him last night had certainly confused him ever the more. They were still trying to deceive him, which was folly on their part. Did they not realize he knew? That he would kill them if given the chance? Perhaps that was the reason he had taken so long to dispose of them before now; their sheer inability to perceive what was right in front of them.

"We aren't going to harm you."

"No?" he questioned, a short laugh escaping his lips. "You knock me down and rob me blind, tie me up like a dog and steal any chances of rescue that might come my way. Yet you tell me that you are here to help, not harm? Who is more of a fool? The one who tells the lie or the one who believes it?"

"Rob you?" Allan shook his head. "We've never taken from you…" he grew quiet, a hand on his chin and he seemed to nod to no one in particular. "Except that one time, when Will and I were going to take the loot to Scarborough…but we did come back!"

"Not helping," Much warned him.

"Robin," Marian took little heed in what was said. "Look at me."

He didn't at first, his mind still occupied with trying to piece together all that had happened, and a way of escape. But when she demanded it a second time he couldn't help himself. She was still beautiful, even with the knowledge that she was against him, working with the very men that had landed him in this situation.

"If we wanted to kill you, do you not think we already would have done so? You said it yourself, you are bound…you can't fight against all of us. There is no escape. So tell me, then, why are you still alive, and why are we helping you if all we want is for you to be dead?"

"How am I to know what plans you have?" he returned, not wanting to answer that which he feared. "Do what you will, but do not try any of your trickery, it will not work."

"And what is this trickery you speak of?"

"The sheriff told me everything, about the good you steal, about the men you attack, the guards you kill."

"Did he?" Marian questioned. "Did he also tell you that he hangs men because they steal food in order to feed their families? Did he tell you that he cuts out their tongues because of their loyalty to the crown?"

_He hadn't wanted to believe what he was seeing. Even the cruelties he had witnessed in the war did not compare to what was happening now. There were cries, some of them were screaming. Robin could not blame them, could not imagine the pain involved both physically and emotionally at the thought of losing one's tongue. To never be able to speak, or to tell your husband or wife that you loved them…all for what? Because they stilled their voices to keep another safe, to keep him safe…_

_Then, there was another cry, another woman who would face the bite of the sharp steel within her mouth. He had to do something, but he needed the others to trust him. He had his bow, a clutch of arrows…there would be only one chance to do this right…._

The memory had stilled him, had brought something back, but he couldn't be quite sure of what. For though he remembered that he had turned himself in, had sacrificed himself, his mind was still taunting. Perhaps it was what the sheriff had wanted; perhaps it had been his plan. He could remember, even now, the man's words. They had to make it believable, and what better way than to follow through with such a plan?

Yet the woman he had saved…there had been no hesitation. Robin's gaze caught that of John's, and he found himself swallowing a painful lump. "Your wife…Alice…I saved her."

The man nodded, but said nothing. Had it all been just a coincidence? It was difficult to tell.

"Both of them, Gisborne, and the sheriff, they work together," Will started, catching his attention. "Do you remember that Gisborne abandoned a child in the forest? His own son, just a baby, left to die in the woods."

"_This baby is cold. Mother's long gone."_

_She had been tricked, led to believe that Gisborne had taken their son to the Abbey of Kirklees. They had to rescue his mother…she had to know the truth behind Gisborne's cruel manner._

"And you, Robin of Locksley," Djaq spoke, "You saved me, don't you remember? I came to this land as a slave. You gave me a chance to be something more."

He could remember…he remembered the look on her face when they first met, his surprise at hearing she could speak his language. He could also remember noticing that there was something different about her, and his lack of surprise upon learning that she was, in fact, a woman.

There were more memories that were coming back. Things he had seen earlier that held no meaning now made sense. The faces he had seen, now all were attributed names. And all the things he had done, the people he had saved, the many times he had thought it was the end, that he would die that day. It was all coming back to him in a rush now, but along with it came something more. Something he wished he could not remember.

It was the same fear that had clouded his judgment before, the twanging of the bow string, the flight of an arrow. Will…how he had cried out in shock and pain, but surprise as well, as the arrow had bit into his flesh. And not only that, for it wasn't his only ill deed. Robin glanced up to where Much stood, trying to read the other man. It felt as though only moments ago the knife had cut through the air, that time itself had stood still. He had tried to kill his closest friend.

"What have I done?"

His voice was a whisper; a question meant more for himself than any of the others. How could he have lost himself like this? How could he have turned against his own friends, trusting instead the lies that were fed to him on a silver platter?

"You cannot blame yourself for what you cannot remember," Marian warned him.

"That does not change the nature of my actions," he retaliated. "What if I had done what I had planned to do? What then would you say? That all would be well? That I hold no guilt because I had been tricked? Don't be a fool."

"Would you hold that same blame against someone else?" she wondered. "If it were someone like me, perhaps?"

"That's not fair."

"It is. How can you blame yourself when you wouldn't blame another for the same actions?"

"I have responsibilities."

"Rubbish," she shook her head. "You are mortal, Robin, you make mistakes just as all men make. You think that you are invincible, and you blame yourself when you come to realize that you are not. And out of everyone, you are the only one who fails to see the flaw in your logic."

"That's got to be a good sign," Allan spoke over the two of them.

"What do you mean?" Much wondered.

"The pair of them, fighting. That's got to mean he remembers now."

"I do remember."

"We don't know for sure," John shook his head. "It's a lie, a trap."

"I would not lie to you, my friend," Robin shook his head. "What I say is nothing but the truth."

"And how would we know for sure?" Allan questioned, leaning against a tree. "Just saying, I mean…we thought you were telling the truth before. How do we know now?"

"You can't know for sure," Robin answered sadly, knowing the truth of it even before he answered. That left them with a rather difficult situation. If his men could not trust him, then they could not let him go. If it were anyone else, Robin knew the choice that he would have to make. Now the others would have to make that same choice for themselves.

"Kill me if you must, to save yourself, or trust that what I am saying is true."

The amount of trust he was asking for was staggering. For even now Robin wasn't sure if he trusted himself. There were still things he could not remember, things he could not be sure if they were true or just another twisted lie.

"No one is killing anyone," Marian scolded him. "We just need time to think."

"If it's the only way…"

"No," she cut him off. "We need to think."

"If I was making the decisions for someone else…"

"Well, you're not."

"How do you know what I speak is not another lie?"

"Is it a lie?"

"No," he shook his head, angry at both himself and at her. "But how can you know that?"

"Because I trust you, Robin of Locksley. I know who you really are, and that you do not believe in any of the silly lies they fed to you."

"He believed them once," John argued, "why not now?"

"Now…is different," Much started, but it was Robin who cut him off.

"No…John is right. Let him speak."

Much fell silent, looking as though he was going to speak again, but did not move to do so. That was when Robin saw him. John moved from where he stood, coming to a stop but a few feet away. He held something out in his hands, and Robin recognized it easily. It was the blade he had used to try and kill Much.

"Where did this come from?"

"Gisborne," he answered quietly. "He gave it to me the night I left the castle."

"And you were going to use it to kill us?"

Robin nodded, knowing there was no point or purpose in denying it now. The truth hurt, but his men deserved more than petty lies, even if they were to spare more pain in the end. "I was to be the first night I returned. But I couldn't…"

"That's why you went back to Nottingham, wasn't it?" Allan wondered. "You weren't going to see Marian."

"Gisborne," Robin nodded. "I went to find if there was a different way. I killed that man…the one from the forest. I didn't want to kill anymore." He turned to Marian then, watching her. "The trap…it was your idea."

"Yes," she nodded. "To give me time to get your men first."

"You realize the danger you put yourself in?" Robin asked her quietly. It was sickening, almost, how much trouble he had caused with ignorance. He let out a sigh, turning back to where John stood.

"Forgive me, all of you. Can you give me your trust again?" He paused. "I understand if you cannot."

It was John who he was watching, for it seemed as though the man had been the most betrayed. Robin could remember the day John had lost Roy, a man who had been like a son to him. That had been part of Robin's folly as well. It felt as though he could do nothing but harm at times.

John moved, before any of the others could say anything. Even Robin was surprised, flinching away as the blade came down. He could hear the others cry out then; they had not been expecting it either. He closed his eyes, expecting the dagger to tear through his flesh.

But it never came. A hand covered his own, the blade slipping between his bound hands. In a few quick swipes they broke free, and John pulled back, digging the weapon into the earth below. Robin let out a sigh, massaging his wrists gently as he was freed from his confines.

"I thought…why did…you were going to…" Much breathed heavily as he came to a stop. He had been in a full fledge run only moments ago. Now he breathed heavily, glancing from one to the other.

Robin only nodded, watching John. "Thank you, my friend."

The man only nodded, but said nothing in return. It seemed as though he was still struggling with some unseen demon. Robin wanted to find some way to comfort him, but did not yet trust his body to support himself. The draught of whatever Djaq had given him was still working through him, and the earlier blows to his head had not improved the situation at all.

"So that's it?" Allan shrugged his shoulders. "We go back to robbing the rich, feeding the poor, and all that likes?"

Robin nodded, letting out a breath. "It feels like it has been too long since we have last done that."

And it did. Though only a handful of days had passed, it felt as though it was an eternity. The same horrific scenes of what had almost taken place played in his head again and again, turning his stomach. He could never forgive himself for what would have happened if the others had not reached him in time.

"Well then, won't the sheriff be disappointed when he finds out you won't be handing us over to the hangman's noose?"

Allan laughed at his own comment, but it was the comment that got Robin thinking. The sheriff, and Gisborne, both still believed he was under their influence.

"How long have I been asleep?"

"Just the night," Djaq nodded to him. "We kept watch on you, do not worry."

"The sheriff and Gisborne expect me to lead you into the trap tonight," he said quickly. "They don't know that I remember."

"What about it?" Much asked, not following on where Robin was going.

"That man," he nodded to him, "that we saw in the forest. He was working for the sheriff."

"How do you know?"

"He had a ring, I found it on him. It had the sheriff's mark on it. Now the sheriff told me he had hired the man to kill me because I had disobeyed orders…I'm thinking the former part of that was true."

"So the sheriff wants us dead; there's nothing surprising about that."

"An assassin costs a lot of money. Money he won't get seeing that he's now dead."

"You think the sheriff is just going to give it to you?" Allan mused, a hint of humor in his voice.

"Yes," he nodded. "All it needs is a little convincing. The sheriff played with my mind, I'll play with his."

"Are you planning on ransoming us?"

Robin grinned, unable to keep the mirth off his face. "Something like that."

"No," John shook his head.

"You must trust me," Robin pleaded. He knew that this would not work unless he had everyone's cooperation. "The money we can use, the villagers need it."

"We could just steal the money," Allan pointed out.

"Not unless you know where it is. This way, we'll have the sheriff just hand it over to us."

"That's risky, Robin," Marian warned him. "When the others are caught, he won't hesitate to finish you off. He will not part with his money so quickly."

"He would if he had reason to keep me around. He's already proven that."

"And you are sure you can find a way to make him do this?"

Robin nodded, watching her. He didn't want to start pleading, but this was an opportunity that would not surface again. "Money like that will feed every villager in Nottinghamshire for weeks. We must do this."

She watched him for a moment, as if considering the options. None of the others had spoken, as though relying on Marian to be the one to answer. Finally she nodded, letting out a sigh.

"Robin is right. We must try."

"You're loony," Alan shook his head. "Easy for you to say, but you won't be the one swinging in the gallows."

"No one will," Robin argued. "I will not lead you in until I am sure there is a prize. Once the money is secure, I will come back for you. All of you."

"You're asking a lot," Will pointed out quietly, watching him.

Robin found himself shaking his head, his voice quiet yet firm. "All I am asking is for you to trust me."

**TBC**


	15. Simple Trust

**Another short chapter; it is getting hard to find places to split the sections apart. Next chapter may take some time, as I will be leaving the state for a short while. Will write and have next part up as soon as possible :)**

**Thanks to Kegel for the beta! **

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**Chapter 15: Simple Trust**

The water was cool and refreshing against his skin, something that was actually quite bliss. Not only did it wash away the grime, but it cooled his heated skin. The draught that had been given to him was still coursing through his veins, still playing tricks with his mind. It was almost as though he was lost in a fog, becoming enveloped at random intervals.

It was unnerving in the least. The simple knowledge warned him that this was not something they should attempt. The success of the mission resided in his ability to remain focused, and already that was proving to be a challenge. He also knew that tonight was their only chance. Robin would not be able to come up with a convincing argument to their delayed mission, and suspicion would rise within the sheriff. It could very well cause them their lives. He wanted that payment; he was willing to risk himself to get it. Deftly he reached up with a hand, fingers running against the healing scab.

There was still pain there; pain which he believed was due more to the repeated blows rather than just the primary one. He caught his reflection then, on the surface of the water, seeing then for the first time how worn he truly looked. The last several days had been an endless charade of moving and running during times when he should have been recovering. The strain was starting to take a toll on him, but he could not afford to rest. With a sigh he shook his head, his eyes catching the slight movement in the reflection.

"There is no need to spy on me."

He knew they all had cause to suspect him, for he had given them every reason to do so. But it was unnerving the way they had watched him, even more unsettling the questions they had asked. He was not normally an open man, he preferred to shelter his thoughts and feelings lest they be used against him to gain leverage. But he was willing to speak anything if it meant to regain their trust.

"The others are ready to go," Marian told him quietly, coming to rest on a rock near the stream.

She had not left them yet, despite Robin's urging. The more time she spent here the greater the danger was. Her lack of presence at the castle would not go amiss for long, and questions would arise to her whereabouts. Questions she would not be able to answer.

"What are you going to do?"

Robin let out a sigh, wading back through the water till he reached the shore. Washing had done him little good, considering the fact the clothes he was now dressing in were just as dirty as he had been to start with. He pulled the last shirt over his head, fixing the hood as he sat down near her.

"The sheriff will not be easily persuaded," Robin told her quietly after thinking for a moment.

"I worry about you, Robin. I do not think your plan will work."

"Amusing, considering you haven't even heard it yet."

She smiled at him, her lips pressed tightly together. "You try and move mountains. You are only a man."

"A man that only wants to repay the favor that was done to him," he argued. "The sheriff brought this game upon himself. I intend to play it to the full extent."

"It is more than a game. You should not even go. You step into the trap when you should be avoiding it altogether ."

"And let the money out of our grasp?"

"You don't even know if there is money. You are going of an assumption, one that can end up with deadly results if you are wrong. Are you willing to sacrifice your men if things go ill?"

It hit a mark; he was the last person who wanted to admit it. The plan he held was a half-jumbled idea that he wasn't sure if it even made sense. But admitting defeat was something he did not want to do. Given in, allowing the sheriff the knowledge that he had for the shortest of times controlled him only gave the man the upper hand. Robin wanted to give the man a taste of his own medicine, wanted to prove that he could not be so easily swayed.

"It will work out."

"And if it doesn't?" she wondered.

"It will," he pressed. "I will go into Nottingham first; speak with the sheriff, and when, and only when I feel that it is safe, I will signal my men. They will cause the distraction needed, I'll get the money, and then I will come back for my men."

"What if you do not have time?"

"I will have time," he promised her.

"You think that you can control such a thing?"

"Why is everything an argument with you?"

She let out a sigh, shaking her head as she turned away. It was a change he was not used to, for when she wanted to speak her mind she could do so easily, and would without fear of repercussions. But now she was stilling her tongue, keeping her thoughts to herself.

"Tell me," he pressed. "What is this really about?"

"We thought we had lost you; that everything we had worked for in the passing years was now gone. Then you came back, and instead of doing what is wise you choose to do what is reckless simply because it serves your purpose. You care nothing of what happens to the others as long as you get the final say."

"That is not true," he shook his head, the accusation a stinging one. What could she know? She had not been near in the recent past to witness all that he had seen and endured. She had no knowledge of his capture, or of the fire that nearly had taken his men's lives. It was folly of her to speak in such manner when she had no real insight to what had taken place.

"What would you say it is then?" she challenged. "If not for your own affairs, whose then? You gain back your respect, your self-entitlement. What do your men gain other than the chance that they might hang?"

"You think that this is just about me?"

"Is it?"

"No," he shook his head, trying to come up with an explanation as to why it had to be done. Yet the more he thought about it, the more he was beginning to realize that she was right. He had not seen any money with his own eyes, but he knew that there had to be. No man as skilled as the one he had seen would work without a price. But he still wondering if he felt this way because he wanted to do what was right, or if simply wanted to do it all for himself to settle an uneven score.

"You see what I mean?"

"No," Robin shook his head, moving to his feet. He would not dwell on something he could not change. He and the others took risks every day, and this day would be no different. If this failed, then he, like his men, would pay the ultimate fate. But it would because they had tried, instead of having stayed hidden away in the forest.

"So you are still going then?"

He nodded, arms folded across his chest as he watched her. "And you? Will you be returning as well?"

"To Knighton," she answered. "You think that my arrival in time with yours would be a wise thing after being out here?"

"Where in Knighton?" he couldn't help but wonder. "You have no home."

"You do not have to remind me," she answered bitterly. "And if you must know, I do have friends there. I will stay with one of them, perhaps for the night. They will vouch for me if anyone should ask if I have been there."

"What if they have already gone looking for you? What would you have them say then?"

"Simply that I needed a time away, and asked them not to speak of my presence."

"You say this often?"

"Often enough," she let out a shrug as she moved to her feet as well. "Do not chide me, Robin of Locksley, for I know you do the same."

"Do we have any choice?"

"Perhaps," she replied crisply, "but I do not intend to visit the gallows because of it."

He nodded, knowing the truth behind her words. The game that she was playing was far more dangerous than the one he was about to partake in, and he worried for her. Being in the castle wasn't a safe trade as far as he was concerned. Gisborne was bound to pressure her in one way or another, and at the thought the memory returned.

It was painful now to think of, though it had only been uncomforting before. He bit his lip, trying to find the best way to approach the subject. There could be no easy way, and so was forced to speak what was on his mind.

"Did you mean it?"

"What?"

There was no indication in her voice that she knew what he was speaking of. Robin had hoped there would be, because he didn't want to speak the words. But his desire to know outweighed that of his vanity. "About Gisborne? You are to be his wife?"

She said nothing, watching him instead with a level gaze. He tried to shrug it off, to pretend that he did not care, but the knowledge was eating away at him little by little. Before, she had accepted Gisborne's forced proposal because she had not any choice. This time, she had given the proposal herself, to satisfy nothing other than her own curiosity.

"So be it then," he nodded, trying to keep his voice from wavering. "You do wish for that future."

"What was between us once is gone, Robin," she answered him softly. "There can be no future for us; as Lady Gisborne I can find out things you cannot."

"You can find things out as Lady Marian, too," he pointed out. "And once you are married how do you expect to even pass along your knowledge?"

"I am becoming his wife, Robin, not his serf. He will not control me."

"And how long before he learns you are working with me? What then? You think he will protect you because you are his wife? Think again, Marian. This man will stop at nothing."

"You don't know him like I do," she retorted. "You see only what you want to see, and you fail to observe the qualities that are good in him."

"Qualities?"

"If you spent time with him you would know. Perhaps as his wife I can change him, make him see how the sheriff is corrupting him. There are other ways to fight this battle than just your way," she scolded him.

Robin shook his head, bitterly angry at her words now. "I have spent time with him," he answered coldly, "and his corruptions are his own. The sheriff has nothing to do with that. Keep that in mind when you walk to the altar."

He didn't wait for a response, merely turning on his heel and leaving her there. No amount of words would make up for what he was feeling, and the day was passing by at an alarming rate. If they were to complete this mission, they needed to leave, and soon.

* * *

This had been something he had always wanted to try. So it had been easy to agree when Robin came to him and asked for his help. There was an inkling in the back of his mind that warned him, that told him to take care. Although he wondered if that came from how the others were acting. They were wary…they had every right to be, for he knew what they were feeling. But he couldn't help himself. Here he was, a grin plastered on his face as he drew the cloth over his head. "What do you think, ey?"

"Pristine," the man nodded, an amused expression on his face, "you'd make a fine lord."

"How about that," Allan grinned, straightening the sleeves and smoothing the overcoat. "Where did you get these anyway? Some poor noble running through the forest naked?"

He hadn't ever worn clothing like this before. Sleek and smooth, quite a contrast to the simple wear he normally adorned. The cloth was light, falling easily around his skin, hugging his frame. It didn't offer up much protection, but he liked to imagine that his appearance made up for that small fact.

"They're mine," Robin responded, catching his attention. That was something he hadn't been expecting. He was not originally from Locksley, had never seen Robin as a lord or dressed in fancy rags like he was now. The simple fact of this truth left him with a bit of a laugh.

"Yours? Where've you been keeping 'em?"

"Turns out Gisborne never got around to spring cleaning. Most of my things are actually still there. A disturbing thought, if you consider it. Not like he wears my clothes much less fits into them."

"You went back to Locksley?"

"Yes," Robin answered simply, a signal that the conversation was now over. "Your horse…My Lord."

Allan held his hands out, a smile on his face. He quite liked this arrangement, although it was a bit difficult getting into the saddle with all the extra adornments of clothing he now wore.

"This I can get used to," Allan remarked, situating himself on the steed. He had taken it upon himself to borrow the animal from a homestead at Robin's urging. Even now he wasn't quite sure what Robin was planning, but he was ready to do what was asked of him. Especially if it meant he didn't have to go with the others into the dungeon. He was the last person that would willingly walk into a trap like that, despite what the others said.

"The pendant," Robin motioned at him, nodding once Allan's gaze fell to the jewel still entangled in the cloth.

"I kind of like it," he commented, fingers encircling to inspect it better. Robin, however, was shaking his head.

"Give it here."

"I dun' seem so lordly without it," he complained, holding onto the gold pendant for only a moment longer. It was of good weight, and he could probably sell it for a great deal if he could find the right buyer. With a sigh he handed it off, fingers clutching open air as Robin took it.

"And it won't seem very likely that a group of outlaws raided you, and frightened away your men, forcing you to show up at the castle alone if you arrive with jewelry either," the man pointed out. He held onto the reigns, keeping the horse at bay.

"The others are already on their way. They know what to do. Give me ten minutes, and follow at an easy pace. Ride on the road; make sure you are seen. When you arrive at Nottingham, ride for the castle and announce yourself."

"How?"

"Trust me; you'll know what to do. You're a natural," Robin said to him with a grin. His expression changed the next moment as he grew serious once more. "Keep the sheriff busy; speak of whatever you must to keep him distracted. When you arrive Gisborne and the guards will try to lead you to the guest chambers, if you convince them you are a lord. Refuse. I need you to do whatever it takes to draw the sheriff from his quarters. I'll take it from there."

"Sounds easy enough…what if things go wrong?"

"Then you flee; don't wait for me. We will have but one chance at this, so do not let your guard down."

Allan nodded, taking on a more serious complexion now. Although he enjoyed this kind of pretense, of sneaking around pretending to be something he wasn't, he also knew the risks associated with it were staggering. But the gain could be more. If Robin was correct about the money, then surely there would be enough left over for them. Robin always kept it in mind to keep a small store for themselves, and already Allan could taste the fine ale that inn served. He let out a grin, nodding to Robin to let the man know he was ready.

"Ten minutes, remember."

* * *

He had not been overjoyed when Guy of Gisborne had visited him that morning. His position was a taxing one, always demanding one thing or another, and his rest was essential to how he operated. Being forced to rise early did not sit well with him, and it was even worse simply due to the occasion. By now he had expected Hood to have killed all of his men.

It was a simple task, really it was. All the man had to do was slice a couple of throats, free the forest of villains, and return back to the castle for a new assignment. If he did well enough, and proved to be useful thus far, then perhaps Vaysey wouldn't have to kill the man. Why waste and want, when you could have what you already wanted?

Yet that wasn't what was to happen now. At first he had been against the idea. Too many times had Hood and his men escaped the pitiful excuse of a prison. Vaysey wanted them dead, clear and simple. But Gisborne had reassured him, had prompted that it was the best this way. What better way than to have Hood himself oversee the hanging of his very own men? It was the ultimate irony, and then, if Robin ever had the misfortune to remember, what worse punishment was there than to die with the knowledge of having destroyed his own alliance?

He smiled at the thought, toyed with the idea of hanging Hood's men first, then revealing the truth to the man. Once he was in chains and irons, that was. Robin would watch his men die, one by one, each and everyone pleading and begging for the rescue that was only moments away. Then when the last man had begged his final, desperate, plea…that was when the moment of truth would be revealed…

It was amazing, simply amazing, on how his clever mind worked. The coming day would be one of reckoning. No longer would the populace of Nottinghamshire turn to the forest and outlawry for help, no longer would they have hopes, or any desire to rebel. Their little hero who had given them false hopes would turn murderous in their eyes, and then sentenced as a traitor and killed in the same fashion. It was all too wonderful…

He let the thought linger, reaching out to select a prune from the bowl before him. Leaning forward he had been able to see what he had missed before, coming to an abrupt halt. How long the man had been there he couldn't tell, but it was unnerving the way he watched him. Quickly he cleared his voice, regained his composure. There was no way to tell why the man was here, and he wasn't willing to panic unless there was a need.

"Locksley."

"Sheriff," Robin nodded towards him. "I did not mean to interrupt your meal, by any means. I was informed to take care to not be seen when entering and leaving the castle. That's exactly what I did."

"Of course," the sheriff nodded. Lying was such an easy game to play, to toy with the words and read the emotions and play on what you knew made the other person weak. That was the reason why he enjoyed Gisborne so much. The man had too many weak points. Robin, on the other hand, seemed invincible at times, and even the petty tricks Vaysey knew now could not be used. You couldn't wound a man's self-conscience when he couldn't even remember it.

"I was informed that you were leading the villains into our carefully placed trap."

"You were informed correctly," Robin nodded towards him, a smile on his face. It turned grim for a moment and he let out a sigh. "Unfortunately one of them had to be killed."

"A fate he would have met while here, I assure you."

"While that is true I would have rather seen him hang in front of the public. Dying unseen seems such a waste," the archer sighed, moving to take a seat across from him. "On the other hand, it did provide a rather convincing story for the others. I told them that he had been captured, by your guards, of course. They are on their way as I speak, waiting for my signal."

"Your signal?"

"Can't very well lead them into a trap that is not prepared, now can I?"

"Very wise to check first," he nodded. "It's ready…now leave before you bore me with details."

"A request, if you do not mind."

"What is it now, Locksley? Another meal perhaps; or do you prefer a shiny pendant that shows others just how talented you are? Apparently you are not yet satisfied with the fact I let you live and gave you a chance to prove yourself."

"Of course not, my lord," Robin nodded to him. "All I simply wanted to request was to read the proclamation for the hanging. I want them, as well as the villagers, to know that this was my doing."

The words brought a smile to his face. The mere thought of it happening had been something he had just been fathoming. Now here Robin was offering it, and it was a chance he couldn't very well let pass. Still came the decision of keeping the archer around after the deed for further political uses, or to let him die with the knowledge of his own betrayal. An amusing thought, either way, but he would give it the rest of the day to consider.

"Very well then," the sheriff gave him a nod. "If you must insist, then it shall be done. You've earned it, shall we say. Now…be off, take care of your…little friends so that we may get this show on the road, hmm?"

"Certainly," he nodded, moving to leave but coming to another pause as he neared the door. "Only one more thing; I was wondering what we have decided to do about the killer."

He found himself frowning, saying nothing for a moment as he absorbed Locksley's words. His mind was racing, trying to piece together where he may have mentioned something of the sorts. It was obvious he had, for the man was mentioning it now. But memory failed to serve him. "Killer…what killer?"

The look of confusion was clear on the other man's face. "I was sure you knew…all the villagers are talking about it. Surely I mentioned it to you one time or another."

"The villagers are talking about it? They will pay then, of course, matters that I will oversee myself."

"You would punish them for speaking of something they know?"

"Of keeping it hidden," he frowned, watching the other man carefully. What did he care if some nameless peasant suffered? Did Robin perhaps remember more than was preferred, or was it a genuine question?

"So they hold their tongues instead," Robin shrugged, moving back to his feet. It gave him an edge of relief. This was not the Robin the sheriff remembered. If it were, the man would not allow something of such nature to pass by so easily. Vaysey watched in minor amusement as the man paced back and forth in front of him. "So when the next potential threat comes…you have no idea that it is about to take place."

"What do you suggest? Would you let them run as they will, spreading lies, speaking untruths?"

"Encourage them to speak, listen to what they have to say."

"Amusing…but you were never hired for your political sense, now were you? This talk is starting to bore me now, get along with the plan. I'd like to enjoy some entertainment coming the following morning."

"Very well," Robin nodded to him, "when I heard the attempt was to take place while you met with Sir Walter, I was concerned."

"See," Vaysey laughed, "That is where you are mistaken. There is no Sir Walter…I am told everything and I would know before them of who was and was not coming to the castle. That is why I choose to not listen to such outlandish rumors. You would do well to choose the same."

"Of course," the man bowed, "forgive me for my insolence. There are still some issues I am confused about, from what has happened." He tapped his head with a finger, but said nothing else as he left, moving quickly and silently out the window.

The visit was unexpected, that much was for certain, but Vaysey was rather charmed with the idea on how well he had the man wound about his finger. It seemed such a shame to have to kill him after having accomplished so much, but winning seemed to prove a fair superior entertainment at the moment. Given time, there would always be another poor sod that he could easily mold.

With a gleeful smile he reached forward, snatching up another prune. He had eaten but one since Robin's arrival, and hunger still accompanied him. Something he would quickly remedy. As he took the first bite the doors flew open, without so much as an introductory greeting.

"What now?" the man groaned, closing his eyes. Why was he never given the chance at peace?

"Forgive me, my lord," Gisborne apologized hastily, "but the Lord, Sir Walter, that you sent for, has arrived. He seems rather taken aback that you were not out there to greet him. He claims that he would have been here earlier had he not run into outlaws while traveling the North Road."

He found himself going still at the words that were just spoken. His eyes narrowed as he stared at the other man. "What did you say?

"I apologized, my lord," Gisborne answered swiftly. "I told him you were dealing with private matters and would be out soon. With all due respect, however, perhaps if you had told me you that someone was coming, I could have helped prepare for his arrival."

"I didn't tell you, Gisborne, because I never sent for him. Who is he…why has he come?"

The other man faltered, confusion on his face. "He precisely said that the Sheriff of Nottingham had sent for him. Seems rather angry to have traveled this far."

"I don't care, just send him away."

"What shall I tell him?"

"Use your imagination, Gisborne," the sheriff replied with a bitter voice. The warning that Robin had given him now returned. It left him wondering why he had done so. How could he have known? His first thought was that it was a trick…but if it was, why would the man have warned him? What gain would Robin have to first warn him of a killer when he could kill just as easily himself. Even so, that mean that Robin would remember everything…no doubt that if he did remember, Robin would be out for blood; his blood.

"On second thought," he called after Gisborne, moving to his feet. "I think I'll accompany you. I should very much like to see this…lord."

**TBC**


	16. A Trick of His Own

**Another short chapter, but we're getting close to the end. This may be the last chapter until the end of next week, beginning of the following week as I'll be out of town. Many thanks to Kegel for the beta, and don't forget to review!**

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**Chapter 16: A Trick of His Own**

She had never intended to head towards Knighton. In reality it all had been a ploy, a simple lie. In her heart she knew that she should trust his word, but part of her would not rest unless she was certain. It had been partly her voice that had convinced the others to listen, to go along with the maddening plan that Robin held in his mind. If they suffered because of her, the guilt would consume her.

Marian had parted ways at the same time Robin had moved for Locksley. Staying on the main road she made her way towards Knighton, pulling off into the trees when she was certain she had crossed enough distance. A steady gallop through the coppice and she found herself on a lesser known path heading back towards Nottingham. At the edge of the trees she dismounted, sending the bewildered beast on its way. After her disappearance, returning on horseback would only draw attention, and attention was the last thing she wanted.

She had borrowed from Djaq a simple hooded cloak. The lie had been easy. With no time to prepare before taking flight to the forest, Marian had wanted something to keep her warm on the ride. There hadn't been any questions asked, the garment simply being handed to her. It was a blessing, for now she would be able to conceal herself from any prying eyes.

There were enough peasants and beggars these days coming in and out of Nottingham that no one tried to stop, nor question her presence. Keeping the hood drawn tight, her hair tucked in, and adding a bit of a limp to her gait, she passed easily by the guards who held no real interest in an old traveler. Once inside Nottingham, travel became easier, but even so she strayed towards the shadows as she made her way to the castle.

By now Robin would already be inside the castle…his men, walking straight into a trap. The passageway, she was certain, would not be hard to find. The difficultly came in navigating it, and making sure it was free from obstruction. Once inside, all she would have to do was wait. If Robin was true to his word, then all was well. If it had merely been a trickery of the tongue, then the rescue for his men would only be moments away. At the very least she could offer them life.

She grew ill at the thought, knowing the one cold hard truth that would come about if this turned out to be the case. Robin could never be trusted again…and he could not be allowed to live. A power such as that, of one that Robin held, with not only his political knowledge, but his weaponry prowess and abundant skill in battle, would only serve to harm the very people Robin had initially set out to protect.

The earlier conversation that had been held between the group came back to her mind. It brought forth many questions, most of which she could not answer, for she knew the truth. No one, including her, would be able to do the deed if it came down to that. With life…there was always the chance at redemption. Death was final, it was permanent. Yet there were things that could be preserved in death, and the honor of his name was one of them. If it came down to it…then Marian would rather the people of Nottingham remember Robin as the kind and caring outlaw that people knew him to be. Not a murderous traitor with the poison the sheriff had inflected his mind with.

Pressing herself against a wall she drew in a breath, calming herself. There was no reason for her to become so worked up over something that had yet to come. She promised herself, convinced herself that the words Robin had spoken were true. That the man could remember who he was, and that the incident was now behind him. That there would be no need for rash actions, and that her presence here was unnecessary. Robin would not betray his men…

Swallowing the last of her fears she moved quickly, disappearing down a back alley. More than once she had snuck into the castle under the premise of the Nightwatchman. It was simple, really. All one needed was a strong jump to grab at the rafters above. Pulling herself up was easy; there was hardly any weight she had to lift and soon she found herself moving hastily across the beams, and climbing the rest of the wall. Another rooftop, an easy jump when the guards were not looking, and she found herself slipping through an archway, and treading on stone.

Pulling her hood closer to her face she turned quickly, moving with haste down the corridor. She paused for only a moment at the commotion in the courtyard, her eyes glimpsing the faintest traces of guards surrounding a lone man. It caused her to falter, something strikingly familiar about the man, but she was much too far to get in a proper glance. Still she couldn't help but edge closer, leaning into the open light as she squinted, her brow furrowing as she let out a frown.

"Marian?"

She jerked back, unaware that she was being watched until now. Already her mind was working, coming up with a plausible excuse. She had been out riding; the horse had thrown her, forcing her to have to walk back to the castle. She just now returned, had wanted to clean herself up to spare herself the humility of having to explain what had happened.

But it was no guard that had seen her. Nor was it Guy, another man she had desperately wished to avoid. Instead she found herself silenced as she saw him, the man moving closer to her.

"What are you doing here?" he whispered, keeping his voice low. "You're supposed to be in Knighton."

"And you're supposed to be in the dungeons," she responded, her voice just as low.

Will shook his head, nodding down towards the courtyard. "Robin's plan."

She turned to look, smiling now as she recognized the man. That was why he had looked familiar; it was Allan. She could hear his voice now, drifting up through the air, one demand after another. It was almost humorous, and she let out a soft laugh, turning back to Will. "Where are the others?"

"If things are going as planned, they should be walking into the dungeons as of now."

"So it is still a trap?"

"A distraction, actually," he confessed, nodding towards the courtyard again.

The doors below opened, Guy and Vaysey both emerging. The guards parted, allowing them through, and there was a brief exchange. No sooner than it was over the sheriff turned his attentions to Allan, hands held up in the air. She wasn't able to hear what was said, but her curiosity didn't have a chance to grow as she was pulled back.

She gave Will a questioning gaze, but he held a finger to his lips, then pointed across the yard. In the window of the tower, directly above the sheriff, a small white strand of fabric fluttered in the wind, tied securely to candlestick on the sill. Will smiled at her questioning gaze.

"Stay back," he warned, pulling an arrow free. He placed it with the bow, pulling the string tight, eyes narrowing as he aimed.

"What are…?"

She wasn't able to finish her question, jerking back as he let the arrow go with a bit of a grimace. His free hand came up to massage his arm, the same wound she knew that was still healing. Her gaze turned to where he had shot the arrow, at the commotion below. The arrow had embedded itself deeply in the wood of the door, mere inches from where the sheriff had been moments ago. Already his frantic cries could be heard, guards drawing their weapons. It was the last she saw, for the next moment Will yanked her down, effectively hiding her behind the mound of stone that created the barrier for the archways.

"I must go," he warned her, checking his surroundings. "You should as well. You cannot be seen here."

She nodded, knowing the truth of his words. It would only take a few minutes before the guards came up here searching, looking for the assailant that loosed the arrow. She did not want to be found, least of all in that position. Not only that, but there was still something she had to do, and with another quick nod she silently mouthed an encouragement of luck, and left in the opposite direction of the other man.

* * *

It had taken quite a bit of will power to hold his anger at bay. He had been calm up until the moment he had slipped in through the window. Then it seemed as if a fury had been unleashed, and it was all he could do to hold his tongue. The sheriff hadn't seen him at first, which was a blessing for him, for Robin was certain if he had, the plan would ultimately fail.

It couldn't. His men were trusting him to see this through. He could not endanger them merely out of his own spite. Slowly he had regained control, had calmed his racing heart and suppressed his rising anger. The sheriff had been surprised to see him, and of course why would he not? Robin held his voice low, in an uncaring manner, even at the sheriff's blunt remarks. If the man was trying to provoke him then it was of the upmost importance to show no reaction.

There was only once where he had almost slipped. But the threat of harming innocents was more than he could bear. Quickly he caught himself, reasoning with the man to why following through with such a deed would not work. He didn't press the topic for long; if the sheriff did act out in such a manner, a single arrow would put an end to it. Whatever repercussion resulted in the aftermath would be dealt with accordingly.

But the sheriff didn't seem too bothered by the news. That had been his cue to leave. For after all mere words would not convince him. Not only that, but time was running out; Allan would nearly be here if he had waited the span he had been instructed to. Scaling the walls, moving through corridors, it had all been too easy. Much, John and Djaq, the trio he had sent ahead, were found precisely where Robin had encouraged them to meet. The lowest of corridors, out of sight, but close enough to the dungeons. A quick nod and they were on the move, leaving Robin to another long span of silent running. So far things were working out, but the ache in his head was returning, threatening to cause problems.

By the time he had reached the top, the open window had given him a clear view of the courtyard below. Allan was there, as was Gisborne…and the sheriff. He let out a smile, pulling free the cloth from his pocket, and secured it about the candlestick, letting it sit upon the frame. There was no time to wait, nor to witness as he was on the move once more. In order for this ploy to work timing was of the upmost importance, and he could not afford to waste even precious seconds.

Through the twists and the turns he drew closer to the ground. When he was close enough, he jumped the rest of the way, landing in a cart of thatch and straw. This had been around the corner from the main courtyard, where an uproar was currently taken place. Will must have already loosed the arrow, the sheriff's frantic voice shouting off orders and commands confirming his suspicion. He had informed Will to make it look like an attempt, to miss, but not by much. Even with his injury Robin was certain the man would have little trouble with that.

A grin crossed his face as he stood, brushing off the debris that was clinging to his clothes. More than once his name had been called out in a panicked frenzy, and Robin knew that now was the time to make an appearance. Once certain he was presentable, he made his way around the corner, climbing the stairs with a hurried pace.

"You called?"

The question had caught the sheriff off guard, the man hastily looking from where the arrow had been shot to where it had landed, before looking back at Robin. He had pressed himself up against a column, eyes wide open as he watched Gisborne follow a group of guards up the stairs. "It can't be…"

Robin moved over to where the arrow was embedded into the wood, impressed with the strength behind it. Will apparently was better off than he presumed, and it caused a smile to cross his face. He banished it in the next moment, bringing on a more serious and concerned complexion.

"It turns out the rumors are more than simple lies," Robin informed the sheriff as he turned back to face him. "Did you see who was responsible?"

"You…a trick…it was you," he cried out, pointing a finger at him. "Guards!"

"How could it have been me when I was here?"

The question caused the man to falter, realizing the truth behind his words. "It was…" he breathed, anger laced in his voice. "You…your men…it could be anyone!"

"It could be," Robin nodded, "but it seems unlikely. They have fallen into our trap, like planned."

"What?"

"You seem surprised…" he answered quietly. "Did you think I would fall back on our bargain? Do you not trust me? Ask one of your guards then…or go and check yourself if you do not believe them either."

The sheriff clung to the column, shaking his head, his gaze landing then on Allan who still sat on the horse, watching the commotion unfold. "Him…Lord whatever from wherever…he did this…"

"Me?" Allan held an innocent face, not even glancing Robin's way. "Not being funny but that arrow could have been meant for me. Besides, it's not like I'm the one who shot it."

"He does have a point," Robin suggested, watching the pair. "If it were up to me, I would suggest for the both of you to get indoors…"

"Of course," the sheriff nodded quickly, turning and lunging back through the doors, pausing only long enough to take another garner at the arrow with a deep shudder. Robin allowed the smile to return briefly, nodding at Allan to follow as soon as the man was behind closed doors.

"And this," he whispered as he followed, "is where the fun begins."

* * *

This was the safest place he knew. No windows, only one door, and a handful of guards to watch the door. Whoever had shot at him would not be able to hit him now unless he was in the room as well. He strode down the stairs, pacing back and forth at the bottom.

It was a trick…it had to be. But how could he explain it? Robin had not shot the arrow; he had been on the same side as they. Even Robin could not run that fast…but his men…

He bit his lip, yelling at one of the guards. The man leaned over the railing, determined to not leave his post as advised. "What news do you know of the dungeons?"

"Nothing, My Lord, but I can go and check if you permit it."

"Yes," Vaysey growled, turning on his heel. "And do hurry. I would hate for your day to end as poorly as mine has."

The man gave an acknowledgment, and was gone in the next moment. But his departure brought another, Robin none the less, and the pesky lord. The sheriff fought off a growl, and pointed a single finger towards him. "I want him…out of here."

"I'm not going to sit out there and get my head lopped off by an arrow," the man replied, arms crossed over his chest as he stood.

"You really think he did this?" Robin asked, following behind.

He felt trapped now, alone with a man who would want him dead if he remembered, and a lord from some far off place that still had yet to explain why he was even here. There was not a lot he could give away, and his suspicion still fell on Robin. How else to explain the sudden cause of events? A smile creased his lips however. Soon he would know. The guard would return, bearing news that it was empty. Then Robin's little secret would be known.

"If I didn't know any better," the lord spoke, "I would say that you called me here to kill me. If anyone is accusing anyone, then I accuse you."

"Me?" the sheriff cried, turning to him. "In my own castle?! Someone tries to kill me, and all you can think about is yourself?"

"If it were me," Robin broke in, "I would start a search for the killer. You can't just sit and wait for it to happen again."

"Oh, I know who the killer is," he hissed, moving towards Robin. The outlaw didn't even flinch, a look of surprise on his face instead. Vaysey came to within mere inches of him, a finger out as he leaned even closer. "And when the guard returns, and I find out that it was you…" he laughed, pulling back. "You should have just stuck with the plan, Hood. Now you will die along with all of your men."

"Lord Sheriff?"

He turned, a gleeful look on his face as the guard returned. "Yes, do tell."

"Robin Hood's men are in the dungeon. The jailer claims they fell into the trap some time ago."

"As I said!" he cried, turning to mock the outlaw. He could not be fooled in his own castle, and though his initial plan had failed he would have justice in the end… "Wait…what did you say?"

The guard was moving down the stairs, coming to a stop as he cleared his throat. "The jailer…he says the trap worked as planned. They are in the room."

"No…" he shook his head, his gaze falling to the ground. It couldn't be…it just couldn't….

"So," Robin leaned forward, resting his weight on his bow. "If it wasn't me, and it wasn't the outlaws…and it wasn't Lord…" he paused, his gaze flickering over to where the noble stood.

"Walter," the man corrected him.

"Walter," Robin picked up, turning his gaze back to meet his.

"Of Lambley."

"…of Lambley…"

"Quite a nice little place," the man added, grinning from where he stood. "Have a nice little manor, and the peasants there are just great, and the women…"

"Are you finished?" Robin cut him off. The lord opened his mouth, as if to continue, but then snapped it closed a moment later and followed with a nod.

"Good," the outlaw breathed, turning his attention back once more. "Who was it then, if not any of us? If you like…we shall leave. I'm certain Lord Walter would be more than inclined to head home seeing that you did not actually request his presence here, and I'm sure I can find work elsewhere until the time of the hanging. Of course, that does mean that whoever tried to shoot you…is still out there."

"No," Vaysey shook his head, trying to keep calm. This wasn't the first time he had been tried to be killed, and he doubted that it would be the last. He had been able to catch the last fiend responsible; of course Robin had helped him that time. This left the possibility open of anyone being the assailant. Only God knew how many people he had angered or made upset with his doings, and that was only if a God even existed.

"Find him," he snapped, pacing once more. "You are working for me now, you find him, and you bring him here!"

"Another mission?"

"Yes," the sheriff snapped. He was far too worked up to play these type of games. The stories they had filled Robin's head with had been a masterpiece, his masterpiece, but at the moment it was causing more agony than anything else.

"Certainly," Robin nodded, straightening. "Of course, there is always a matter of the money."

"Money? What money?"

"I am already aware of the fact that you might have paid me for this last endeavor, and seeing that I am short in memory on…certain subjects, I'll trust that you already have. But this…this is a new mission, a new assignment. I would request the payment up front."

"Who said anything about payment?!"

"Well…having the time to think, I discovered that I had to be working for something. Certainly not for office or political positions, as you so pointed out yourself early this day. So therefore I must be working for money. What else can it be?"

"You won't ever see a shilling of it!"

The man nodded, seemingly willing to accept the fate. And it was only just that he did. They had never once negotiated a price, nor mentioned one. He wasn't even willing to part with his money to those who rightfully earned it, why then would he give it to an outlaw?

"Very well then; I assume you have someone else in mind that will find and dispose of this killer. Has to be quite expensive, finding someone that will answer your call, seeing that all your previous assassins ended up dead. Is it a regular occurrence, I wonder? Do many of your contracts end up dying? That would raise the cost even more, I would believe."

"Alright!" he snapped, knowing the words to be true. Finding the last man had cost a fortune, and had demanded one as well. Robin was just as good as anyone, and all he cared about at the moment was finding whoever had tried to kill him. He would worry about the trivialities later on when he knew for sure that he was safe from harm's way.

* * *

She had been here once before. The darkness surrounded her, the dank smell wafting up through the air. The slightest of sounds that were made echoed through the chamber, dancing off the walls. Yes, she remembered this place quite clearly.

Last time, however, she was alone. The last time she had been taken prisoner, dragged off to the cells like little more than discarded waste. But the simple fact that others were with her now made things only worse, not better. She fought the rising burn in her chest, closing her eyes. Everything would be fine…Robin would come for them.

But he hadn't come the last time. There was no denying his fault there, and she couldn't help wondering what that meant, what it possibly signified. She knew he had been preoccupied, that Gisborne had stolen away his thoughts. In the end he relinquished his hold on the man in return for her safety, but only because the others had insisted so. Djaq reached up with a hand, caressing her neck gently. She was not ready to die.

With a sigh she closed her eyes, leaning her head against the metal bars. There was nothing else to do other than wait, and hope, that Robin would keep true to his word. She wanted to trust him; he had asked for her trust before, the first time they had met, and she had given it then. Now she was giving it once more, and praying that it was not an ill-fated mistake on her part.

Behind her Much was pacing, his footsteps echoing around them and down through the hall. Along with that came a spurn of worried mutterings, of everything that could possibly happen, and it was fueling her own worry. She warned him to quiet down, wanting to be able to think clearly and without interruption.

"No," he shook his head, continuing to pace, "I won't stay quiet. I will not give them the satisfaction of giving up! They can't take me like this!"

"What are you doing?"

Like them, John was a captive as well. The trio had moved in with stealth, following Robin's order despite the fact that it may lead them to their deaths. He had gone in first, and now still stood by the wall, his face calm, his demeanor unreadable.

At the question Much turned to him, a grin on his face. "Robin said to make it believable. That is what I am doing."

"How about we start fighting," Djaq offered, "and I kill you? Believable then? And quiet, not to mention."

Much was silent, his face pale in the murky light, and he gave a nod, clearing his throat. "I'll be quiet."

She let out a sigh, moving back from the bars. "You still trust him?"

The question had been directed to Much, the man meeting her gaze before giving a nod. "Of course…don't you?"

She had forgiven Robin after he had failed to come to her rescue the first time. It had taken some time, time to heal, to get over the pain of the knowledge. But for Much, it seemed almost instantaneous. And it was strange; had it been anyone else then surely the man would be spouting off ill feelings. But it seemed that just because it was Robin…everything had been forgotten.

"He will come," Much encouraged her, looking between the two. "Robin will come."

"We shouldn't have come," Djaq shook her head, moving to sit on the ground. "There are other ways we could have done this; we did not have to choose this way."

"We'll be fine," John reassured her.

"You trust him as well?"

That was a strange twist in fate, because it seemed as though he had been the one upset the most by this latest change in events. And truly he had been angry with Robin when the man hadn't agreed with her rescue all those months ago. But John shook his head.

"I do not know," he confessed.

"You can," Much argued, "you have to trust him."

"Yet you are here," she stated, ignoring what Much had said.

"Give him a chance. We owe him that much at least."

"Owe him?" Much shook his head, "You owe him more than that. Look at everything he has done, everything he has given up! You have to trust him…it's only fair!"

"Not everything is fair," she replied, her own voice echoing in her ears. How many times had she heard that before? Her life had been a struggle with what was right, with what was fair. Very rare was it that she actually held a say in any of that. With Robin, she was able to support some of her own opinions, but now it felt as though all of that had been taken away once more.

"Robin will come," Much pressed again, this time earning a nod from her. She had given him her trust up until now; she had to convince herself that she still did believe. If not for herself, then for the others. If they were wrong, then at least they would all be fools together. They would die for loyalty, instead of betrayal. And perhaps, that was what made all the difference.

If Much himself, the very man who was the closest to Robin, could forgive the man, and continue to trust him without a moment's hesitation, then surely she could. A stranger to this land, a woman among men, a lone person caught up in a battle that wasn't even of her concern. Her only regret now was that Will was not with her. Perhaps then she would have felt more confident, but at the same time she was glad. For if their fate did turn out to be ill…then at least he was safe.

That was something she would not change, and part of her knew that she might not even get to say goodbye to the one man she did consider to be more than just a comrade. Not only was he safe…but Allan as well, and if Robin was not fully cured, then at least they could get away. At least they could still fight. And everything that had been done would not be in vain.

The thought was encouraging; more encouraging than the one that resided with her now. The simple realization was that all they had to do now was to wait. Wait to die, wait to live, and wait to see how far loyalty or betrayal actually ran among them all.

**TBC**


	17. Treasure and Friendship

**Thanks goes out to Kegel for the beta!**

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**Chapter 17: Treasure and Friendship**

It had taken some convincing on his part before he was able to persuade the sheriff to comply with his demands. As he reckoned, the man was not pleased with the notion of handing away his stolen goods. But with Allan's quick tongue, held under the guise of a noble, the man had cracked. Apparently his concern for his well being outweighed that of any mere trinkets. As it should be; any sane man would come to the same logic, and it was that logic Robin had used to convince the man to take the bargain. Already he was using the sheriff's devious plan against him.

He would not part with the entire chest; Robin was well aware of this notion long before even arriving in Nottingham. But the man didn't have to give it up willingly. Once the location was known, it would take only mere minutes to clean it out. When departing the room he had given Allan a quick nod of the head, an indication to follow. Vaysey, too busy to take proper heed, said nothing, and the guards did not try to interfere. They knew how reckless it was to question the irate man, and did not wish to risk their heads.

It was amusing, to say the least, to watch the sheriff dart from one corridor to the next, pausing to stare out into the open spaces between archways. It was as though he was expecting to be shot down at any moment, forcing Robin to quench the rising laughter lest he gave himself away. It was a believable plot; more than one person out there in Nottinghamshire wanted him dead. Not only that, but this was not the first time someone had tried to shoot him down.

The last time, it had been a man who wanted nothing more than to settle a personal score. A man that Robin had once known; he had been a good man, but had been blinded by greed. Not in the manner of speaking for wealth or power, but revenge. It had ended in his death, something that even now Robin was regretting, but it brought forth more than just ancient memories. It brought about questions, as he wondered if he was doing any different now.

Marian's words came back to him, her warning about avoiding all of this altogether. It was too late to turn back now; half of his men were in the dungeon, and would suffer a far worse fate if he left them there. Allan was safe for as long as his disguise held out, and Will had hopefully heeded his orders, and was hidden away safely. That left just himself, and Robin knew the line he was treading was a thin one. The battle of wits was a dangerous one, even more with someone who was just as cunning.

There was no mistake about it; Vaysey had come to power through intelligence as well as cold cruelty. The turning of a knife once buried in flesh or so to speak. He was irrational at the moment, which was the only favor Robin held over him. Once calm, once he had time to rationalize, the sheriff was sure to see the errors of his ways, and turn on them quickly.

They came to a stop, Vaysey checking the corridors one last, long time, and pushed his way through, Robin on his heels. The sheriff's quarters…of course, what safer place to hide away a treasure than right under the man's watchful eye? Robin let out a small smile, watching as the man pulled away a stone from the wall, heaving the hefty slab onto his bed. Quickly, without a word, Robin slung his bow off his shoulder, readying an arrow.

"Severances pay," Vaysey scoffed, turning back to him. He held in his hand a small bag, it's worth containing hardly more than what a hard working man would make in a week's time. There had been a grin on the man's face, but it fell as he saw the arrow. "What is this?"

Robin let out a grin, cocking his head to one side. "A little trick of my own; call it leveling the playing field, if you would. Did you really think that some lord out of nowhere would show up? That some simple peasant would somehow know about it before you and use that to their advantage? You've lost your touch; let down your guard."

His face was pale for a moment, a scowl crossing it then. "You!" he growled, taking a step forward. "It was all a trick then; you never did forget."

"Oh I did," Robin confessed, raising the bow and arrow as the man tried to move closer. It stopped him in his tracks and he couldn't help but smile again. Confessing the truth was the ultimate humiliation, for the other to know he had been right, and that he still had failed. "Well done, my friend. It almost worked; you could have had yourself something great on your hands. But you forgot one important thing."

"And what is that?"

"That I'm Robin Hood," he smirked, "and my men would not betray so easily."

"But you betray them," Vaysey shook his head, a smile lighting his face in mirrored reflection. "As of now…your men are in the dungeons…they won't be getting out so easily." He moved then, holding up a finger. "If you surrender now, I can promise you swift and easy deaths for all of you. Except for you…but I'm sure you don't mind. You…enjoy sacrificing yourself, to save others."

Robin let the arrow fly, the string of the bow emitting a solid twang. It happened fast enough that the sheriff didn't have any time to react. There was a yelp that came from him as the arrow buried itself in the bag that was still clutched in his hand. In the next moment it was empty, the arrow having cut straight through the bag, knocking it free from his grasp. It rolled on the floor, change clattering as it spilled free from its confines. Another arrow was ready and notched before the other could so much as move.

"You are in no position to make demands," Robin warned him, nodding his head to Allan behind him. "Use the rope, tie him up."

"Me?" Vaysey cried, astonishment sounding in his voice.

"Make sure to gag him as well."

Allan came into view, rubbing his hands gleefully with a grin. "Come along friend, have a bit of fun now."

The sheriff didn't move at first, then without warning he was running, jumping over his bed and clambering over the giant slab. It was a desperate act, but not the wisest of moves. Robin would not shoot him, despite all the wrong that had been done. It served no purpose to kill your enemy when you knew him so well. In the end you would face up against something new, and new was dangerous. New you could not predict, new you could not read as easily. It left you open to what was vulnerable. But neither could Robin allow him to flee, or signal for help.

Allan had a dagger pulled free, cutting off one end, leaving Robin to move to the other. He had abandoned his arrow, but still used his bow, bringing it up in an underhanded strike. The blow connected soundly with the man's chin as he tried to slip by, knocking him flat on his back. "Do it, now!"

Allan didn't need a second invitation, pulling free the ropes that adorned the bedchamber and held up satiny shawls that decorated the large frame. A few quick wraps and he had the knot in place about his wrists, and then moved to tie them off on the bedposts. The moaning man was coming to his senses though, muttering a few incoherent phrases before he turned to yelling out orders, calling for any help that would come.

It was muffled in the next moment, Robin turning to see Allan force a large wad of decorative fabric into his mouth. Though the sheriff was screaming a never ending line of obscenities, it could hardly be heard. Allan let out a grin, pulling back to admire his handy work.

"How's that for a simpleton, ey? Being a lord is a lot easier than I thought it would be," he admitted.

"You did good," Robin nodded to him, moving to where the hidden case was. As a hole in the wall, extending only a few meager feet, it held quite an alarming amount. "So this is where you keep all your trinkets? I will be collecting it, of course."

There were muffled moans in response, perhaps a few tears, but Robin did not linger on it long. "Find Will; lead him around the castle underneath the sheriff's quarters. He should have a cart ready."

A quick nod and the outlaw was gone, leaving Robin alone with the sheriff. He watched the man for a moment, shaking his head. "Why?"

There was no verbal response, of course, and though the question plagued at him he would not chance removing the gag. No doubt Gisborne and the other lackeys were combing the rest of the passageways even as he waited here. Soon they would find no traces, and would put together what had happened, and the sheriff's quarters were one of the first places they would come to.

"You had me, could have sentenced me to hang. Could have been rid of me. You're ploy was a good one, I will admit. But did you really think the others would not notice?"

It was a monologue really; it would be no different if he were talking to himself. With a sigh he turned, collecting the first bag from the secret stash. "At any rate, I'm sure all of England will thank you for your contribution."

He hefted it up to show the man, before moving over to the window. A quick check to make sure all was clear and he let it drop. It hit the steps below, breaking open with the contact and spilling out the contents. He gave a small grimace, turning away to grab another. Tying the one end tightly he tried again, a smile crossing his face as he saw the bag surviving the fall this time.

Again and again he carried the bags, one by one, securing the ends and letting them drop. In truth it was the easiest way, far easier than trying to lug it through the castle corridors. The guards were busy searching for the supposed killer, leaving the front concealed from any type of watch. And though it garnered plenty of attention from the town below, most everyone was too bewildered to intervene. That, or perhaps they were too afraid of being clobbered in the head by a sackful of silver and gold.

Halfway through the process he could see the cart arrive. The men began loading the sacks quickly, not sharing in the same fear as the others and clearly unconcerned as the bags kept on falling from above. Securing the last of the bags, he let it drop, watching until they had the last bit loaded. Certain they were on their way, he pulled back, collecting his discarded bow from the ground.

"Would love to stay and chat some more, but I still have so much to do," he gave a mock bow to the man, straightening as he moved for the door. He didn't make it very far, the door opening even before he reached it. Guy, flustered and out of breath came to a halt, his gaze moving from where Robin stood, to where the sheriff still lay, secured tightly to the bed, bound and gagged, muffled screams fighting their way through the cloth. Unfortunately Guy was far smarter than the sheriff in this battle of wits, and he didn't need time to put the puzzle together.

A blade was drawn, Guy motioning to the guards behind him to stay and watch the door. Slowly he advanced, a placid smile on his face, mocking and inviting. "So your scheme has seemed to fail, My Lord," he spat out mockingly. Amusing, as it was, Robin made no direct comment. His mind instead was racing to find a way out of this predicament.

He could take a few of them down with his bow and arrow, but he had nothing else on him save for the small dagger, still tucked away against his skin. That added into it, he might be able to take down three, perhaps four before he became overwhelmed. On the highest floor, as they were now, he could not exactly jump. He had already seen the fate of the money bags, and did not wish to repeat such a feat with his own body. Escape would be something he would definitely find, as well as death. Even if he happened to survive such a fall, the resulting fate would be fairly grim.

"No worries," the man continued, a slight shrug of his shoulders. "Looks like we get to follow through with my plan instead."

Robin readied his bow as Guy took another step. It slowed the man, for the other knew the archer would shoot. Robin had already proved that point, and though it had not been a fatal blow, it had rendered him useless for several weeks. It had given Robin and his men time to recover, and at the moment the outlaw held no qualms to disabling the Master at Arms once more.

"Shoot," Gisborne taunted him, lowering his sword, hands by his side. "There is no escape for you, might as well try to take as many as you can with you."

The comment hit a mark, more than he wanted to admit. Slowly he wet his lips, his throat suddenly feeling very tight, excruciatingly dry. Then, without a word, he lowered his weapon, bringing about a satisfied smirk on Gisborne's face.

"Don't have it in you. Outstanding warrior, in the King's Private Guard…worthless now…"

He was cut off, the muffled screams coming from the bed. The sheriff could hear every taunting word, and no doubt was attempting to encourage Guy to finish it here and now. The man was probably demanding his release just as well.

"Don't worry about your men," he continued, ignoring the sounds coming from the other's mouth. "I promise you I'll take good care of them."

Robin moved, kicking out, catching him unawares. The sword was free of his hand, clattering on the ground and Robin pulled forth the dagger, the blade finding flesh as he grabbed a hold of the other man. The guards behind them were moving, but came to a stop as they saw the blood. A thin trickle that started at the point of the blade, and ran down their master's throat. Not enough to suggest anything fatal, but given the strong implication that it could turn such with a little added pressure.

Even Gisborne froze under his hold, the only noise then coming still from the sheriff who had yet to let up his screaming tirade. Robin said nothing, still keeping his silent demeanor as he nodded to the guards. There was no question to what he wanted, but even still they hesitated. The outlaw applied a little more pressure, the blade biting deeper into the man's flesh.

"Back up," Gisborne breathed at the contact, "let him pass."

"Wise choice, Gisborne," Robin taunted him quietly, pushing his way through as the others pulled back. "Seems you do want to live after all."

"You won't kill me," he retorted, but didn't resist as Robin pulled him back further.

"I can."

"But you won't."

"We'll see about that; call them off. In the room. I want the door closed, barred from the outside."

It seemed at first as though the man was going to argue, but with a little added pressure he was yelling out the orders without hesitation. The guards did hesitate, only moving after another encouragement from Robin. Half a dozen guards filtered from the hallway and into the room, the door closing after another demand from Guy. With the knife still at the man's throat, Robin motioned with the other to a freestanding candlestick, the metal glittering from the flickering flames that it held.

"Bar the door."

"Me?"

"Don' t worry," Robin encouraged him, "I won't let you fall."

"It won't work," Guy snapped at him.

"Trust me, it does."

Again it seemed as though he wasn't going to comply, as though he was testing Robin. Frustrated the archer jerked his hand back, allowing the smallest of cuts to turn into a fair gash. More blood ran over the blade, coating his fingers. Still nothing more than a scratch, but it got the message across.

Hastily the man in black swiped the candlestick, the candles from above falling at the sudden movement, their flames withering and dying out as they rolled on the floor. Inching forward he allowed Guy enough room to secure it against the wood, sliding it down until it became imbedded in the stone.

"Well done," Robin pulled him back, the dagger still at his throat.

"What do you want, Hood?" Guy questioned him, trying to keep his balance. "I've done what you said, now let me go."

"Maybe I want to keep you as my prisoner, fill your head with lies," the archer spat, still making his way back. "I think that sounds like fun, don't you?"

"The idea was not mine; it was the sheriff's!"

"And yet you still went along with it."

"I cannot openly defy the sheriff; do not get me wrong, I wanted to kill you instead."

"Well how kind of you," Robin shook his head. "This is not the end, I can promise you, Gisborne. One of these times we meet, I will kill you."

He let go of the man. Perhaps his first mistake. At the slightest release of pressure Gisborne struck, an elbow catching him in the chin. Robin could taste blood, his senses reeling as he fell backwards, cold hard stone breaking his fall. Gisborne was already yelling for his guards, the breaking of word bringing him back to reality. Hands were on him, wrapped deeply in the folds of his garment, holding him still as the first blow came.

He reached out, trying to find the dagger he had only moments ago. Where had it gone? He was trapped where he was now, pinned down between hard floor and a raging man that was determined to take revenge. Another blow came, sending a ringing through his ears, his head throbbing as his vision wavered. If he gave in now, then there was no telling what would happen to the others. He had to hold on, if only for them…

Then he was free…how it happened was beyond him. Guy of Gisborne was over him one moment, and now the Master at Arms was on his back, perhaps looking as perplexed as he. There was a hand on his arm then, pulling him to his feet. Quickly Robin turned, biting his tongue to keep out from yelling her name in both shock and surprise.

"The Nightwatchman!" Guy roared, his voice being drowned out as the guards finally broke through the door.

Another pull on his arm nearly toppled him, Robin doing his best to keep to his feet, grasping the discarded blade as he did so. She pulled his arm again, and he ran, not needing any more encouragement. How she was here, how she found him, he would not ask. He was only grateful to see her, grateful to be fleeing this dreadful place.

They rounded a corner, and she slipped into the darkness of another corridor, Robin following only seconds behind. And none too early, for the stampede that followed passed by without slightest notion that their prey was now behind him. Letting out a sigh he slumped against the wall, catching his breath.

"I told you that you shouldn't come," she chastised him quietly, "you complain about my methods leading me into trouble. Do you do any better?"

"Marian…"

She hushed him, holding a hand out as she drew back. He could see why; Gisborne and Vaysey were making their way down the hall. He could hear the sheriff well before he could even see the man, a smile crossing Robin's face at the memory of what had been done. That would give the sheriff something to brood over for a while.

"With all due respect, My Lord," Gisborne started, but was cut off.

"Now you show respect?! NOW?! What about earlier, when you could have chopped him into thousands of pieces?! NOOO! All you could do was mock me. You will pay, Gisborne, mark my words, you will pay."

"We will catch him; his men are in the dungeons. He will go there next."

"See that you do, otherwise I may have to find some other way to entertain myself, Gisborne," the man growled.

It was all they heard of the conversation, the pair disappearing around the corner, following the guards. Robin let out another groan, closing his eyes. Yet another problem he had to fix.

The touch was gentle on his lips, but even still it hurt. He pulled away to find her eyes watching him. Even disguised, hiding under a makeshift mask, he could see the worry in them.

"I'm fine," he breathed, "I need to get to my men."

"You can't go down there," she shook her head. "They're expecting you. You'll walk right into another trap."

"I can't just leave them," he argued. "You know what they'll do to them."

"So that's your plan then? Walk from one trap to another?"

"I have a plan," he protested, but she was shaking her head.

"You need to think."

"I do not have time to think, Marian."

"I have," she argued, "and I have a plan."

"What plan?" he asked, curious now.

"We must hurry if we are to see it through."

"You can't be seen with me," he shook his head.

"I already have been seen with you. Now are you going to trust me, or not?"

* * *

It was smaller than she remembered. Of course she had been only a little girl when she had clambered through here, but her memory convinced her that there had been plenty of room. Now the walls closed in, the ceiling brushing the top of her hood. She knew that Robin behind her was having some difficulty moving through as well. That would only raise problems in the end, but they would have to worry about it in due time.

Without the aid of a torch it was difficult to see the way. One hand was always against a wall, guiding her as she moved. Cobwebs, cluttered with dust, clung to her skin, the musty odor threatening to choke her. But she stifled her coughs, covering her mouth and nose with a free hand. Robin must have been doing something similar behind her, for he had not betrayed any sounds of discomfort either.

In one part, the tunnel had almost collapsed on itself, forcing Marian to take to her knees to crawl through. She waited only long enough to make sure that Robin made it as well. Some of the wall collapsed even more at his efforts, gravel scattering on the ground below.

It had been easy to get down here. Guy and the Sheriff were far busier following the guards to the dungeons. They were taking the long way, crossing the halls, moving down the stairs. Marian had led Robin to the side, the pair had jumped from balcony to balcony, moving through a window and scooting past the doorway that was invisible to the untrained eye. With any hope, they would reach the dungeons first. She prayed that it was so.

Robin was hurting. He would never admit it, damn his stubbornness, she thought with a scowl. He would push himself until he broke, and even then he would carry on, worrying only about how to pick all the pieces back up once everything was set right. He was as much as a fool as he was stubborn, and yet here she was, helping along. Did that make her any better or any worse than he?

She pushed the thoughts aside, slowing down to a stop as her hand felt the turn of a corner. It was strange, for she knew they should have been there by now, and she bit her lip, trying to think through it in her mind. Had she chosen the wrong tunnel?

Her heart hammered as she peered through the darkness, her mind racing, trying to figure out what to do. They didn't have time for mistakes, and if she had been wrong, Robin would never forgive her. She would never forgive herself.

Marian jumped at the hand that was placed on her shoulder, calming in the next moment when she reminded herself it was only Robin. He was close to her, and she could feel his warm breath on the side of her face. "There," he whispered.

If he was pointing then she could not see where. He must have known, for his fingers were around her chin, lightly tilting her head in an upwards direction. It was right above them, the faint spilling of light, the thinnest traces of a square in the ceiling. The trap door was in the floor…

"How?" she whispered.

He didn't answer, but the sounds of scratching could be heard, the thin light being blocked out as he reached above them. Loose gravel, bits of dirt and dust fell down on her and she stepped back, pressing herself against the wall. Robin moved to where she had been standing, and she realized then he was using the dagger he had collected earlier from the fight. The blade slid into the openings, more light shining through as it carved away more filth that had collected in there over the years.

That wasn't the only thing. Voices could now be heard, echoing above them, muffled but frantic. There was a commotion going on above them, and she could hear the knife quicken its strokes against the stone. Then her heart skipped, a sudden fear entering her mind then. What if they were wrong?

"Robin," she breathed his name, stepping towards him. If they were tunneling up in the midst of a hall it would serve them no purpose. They would be trapped down here, and his men would go to the gallows the morning after. But nothing else could be said, the stone moving then, a rough grinding noise sounding as the slab was lifted.

Light, though dim, flooded the tunnel below, forcing Marian to shield her eyes at the sudden change. She nearly missed the hand that reached through, but Robin didn't. He held on tight, and in the next moment they were no longer alone.

Djaq landed hard, but was quick to move out of the way. A roar of voices, the sound of a fight was taking place above. She could hear the sheriff screaming orders, and even more so the distinct voice of Guy. Quickly she pulled back into the shadows, her heart hammering.

"Hurry, John cannot hold them off for long!" Djaq shouted at Robin, moving to help him. Much was next, his awkward landing sending him to his knees.

"John!" Robin called to the last man, jumping up to grab the lip of the trap door. Much was already after him, but the archer had already pulled himself up through the hole, disappearing from sight.

"What is he doing?" Much cried, "Master, come back! We must go!"

"He will not leave Little John," Marian scolded him, causing the other to start.

"What are you doing here?" he hissed, keeping his voice low.

She could only shake her head, knowing full well that she had already asked herself that very question many times over. The light from above vanished once more, John's bulky frame landing solidly on the floor. Robin was not too far behind.

"Go," he urged them, "hurry."

Marian nodded to him, glancing one way and then other. She knew where the tunnel to her right led, but also knew that at some parts John would not be able to pass, and that Robin would not leave him behind. It would lead them into nothing more than a trap. To her left the tunnel continued, but to where she did not know. It could be yet another dead end. Above her she could hear the swinging of the cell door. Surely with all the outlaws gone the jailer had actually been able to get close enough to unlock the door. They did not have much time.

Taking a breath she swallowed, and then took off to her left. Robin didn't question her judgment, but he had also given her his trust. He was counting on her to lead them to safety since the idea had been hers. Now she was praying that her decision was right. Whether it was or not, it could not be undone. Already the tunnel was being filled, guards pursing them both willingly and reluctantly. Not that she could blame those who did not wish to follow. They knew that Robin would not kill, but they also knew that the men would not hesitate to harm.

She let one hand set against a wall, allowing it to guide her in the darkness, another hand held out in front in case they should run into a wall. Though she doubted it would help, considering they were all nearly at a run. But it was working; they were far enough ahead now. Not even the light from the torches was giving them assistance.

It was another light that they had seen, faint but grey in color, as opposed to the glowing yellow of that of a torch. She allowed herself to smile, knowing that they were close. Robin had seen it too, for he pushed past her as the tunnel came to an end, a jumble of rocks and dirt standing in their way. The tunnel here must have collapsed long ago, and instead of repairing it, it was simply covered.

There wasn't a lot of room to work with, but somehow they managed, hands and weapons served as tools that bit into the earth in front of them, breaking open the small fingerlike cracks into a larger opening, one that was large enough for them to slip through. Djaq was first, followed by Much. Marian proceeded through only at Robin's urging, the clamor of the guards entering the hall behind them.

Djaq was ready and waiting, offering a hand and pulling her to her feet, the fresh air a much wanted privilege to breathe after the hard run in the darkened cavern below. They were still in town, hidden deep in an alleyway, broken crates and piles of rubbish sheltering them from the prying eyes of the villagers.

Behind her the others had made it out, and though they were free to flee and disappear amongst the town they did not do so. Robin was calling out orders, Marian intrigued as she watched the group spring into action. More rocks were piled atop the makeshift opening, splintered pieces of wood and anything else they managed to get a hold of.

"That should hold them long enough," Robin breathed, nodding to the others. "We still need to take care, split up in groups, meet back at camp, go now."

There was no need to encourage them; Djaq and Much headed off to the right, John taking to the left. Robin reached out for her as he moved to go straight, but she pulled back. It surprised him, and she could not blame him.

"I cannot go," she whispered. The guards, she knew, were most likely at the blockade, working frivolously to find a way through. She could not risk them discovering her true identity.

"You cannot stay," he shook his head. "You are supposed to be in Knighton."

"I can take care of myself," she responded. "Just go, before you are caught. I do not think I can stand to do another rescue so soon."

"Marian," he breathed, drawing close to her now. She hated how he did this, the voice that he used. Robin was not one to beg, but he would delve to such tactics and it stirred the guilt inside of her so deeply when he did.

"No, Robin."

"If you stay…"

"I know," she nodded to him. She could not avoid the promise she had made to Guy. "The choice was mine to make. You saved me once; you gave me a chance to live my life a little longer. I thank you for that, and every word I say is true. But even you knew that you could not protect me forever."

"Do not punish yourself on my account," he whispered fiercely. He was close enough that his forehead nearly touched her, but she did not draw away. He reached up a hand, pulling free the scarf that covered the majority of her face. His hand was warm against her cheek, caressing her skin timidly. "Do not do this."

"If I could do it all over again, I would not change a thing," she whispered. "You're more important than I am."

"That's not true," he argued, but she was quick to cut him off.

"You know that it is. Now go, before it is too late."

She pulled away, hoping that it would encourage him, but he caught her. She turned to berate him, growing angry now. Why was he always like this? Always having to have the final word, a selfish need, only concerned about what he wanted. Why couldn't he accept that he had failed this one time?

But it wasn't words he was saying. The touch was tender, surprising but inviting. A gentle kiss, perhaps one last farewell. She looked at him then, truly seeing him for the first time. Before she had seen a worn man, one struggling with his own physical hurts. Now she saw something deeper, a pain she could not describe, but one, perhaps, that she was feeling herself. Something that was emotional, something that could not be healed with rest or the brewing of herbs.

"Go," she whispered, her voice quieter than it had been in a long time. When she turned this time he did not stop her, but even as she climbed the wall behind her, she could hear his quiet words.

"I love you, Marian."

She turned, but the alleyway was empty. Where he had gone she could not tell, but disappearing was one of his finest of traits. Surely he was halfway to Sherwood by now. A small sad smile came about then, a troubling feeling brewing inside of her, but it wasn't too difficult to understand. It was the reflection she had seen in his eyes before.

"I love you too."

**TBC**


	18. Epilogue

**Here is the last bit, short chapter, but more of an Epilogue. There is another story in the works, you can see summary down at the bottom.**

**Many thanks to Kegel for her help with this story, and doing the beta. Also a Happy Birthday shout out to her! **

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**Chapter 18: Epilogue **

Night found him bedded down amongst the trees a good way from camp. There had been much rejoicing earlier as the others poured over the treasure and celebrated the success of the mission. Robin had stayed for a time, but as the others fell asleep he took to the woods. It was supposed to be a happy time; they had bested the sheriff, everyone was safe, and now they had a way to supply the villages with a source of income for the passing weeks. He should have been happy. But happiness was the furthest thing from his mind.

There were many emotions swirling inside of him, each fighting for its own turn in gnawing at his self conscious. And though he knew that some were more important than the others, he could not help but feel bitter about what had taken place. He had lost…

Marian was to remain at the castle, and in due time she would marry Gisborne. The thought alone pained him, but what hurt even more was the knowledge that they would see one another again, and he would see her not as Lady Marian, but as Lady Gisborne. It hurt to a point that it almost made him ill. Robin found himself wishing that she had stayed wherever she had come from. He would give up seeing her ever again if only it meant she was safe from the likes of Gisborne.

She would not; what she was thinking was something he could not grasp. How she would simply give herself over to a man that wanted her dead, that had tried more than once to kill her, was something he could not comprehend. She could have come with him, to the forest. She would have been free that way, carrying no fear of repercussions of her actions. She would be able to continue fighting as the Nightwatchman, and have the protection of the others at her back. She would…

Robin let out a sigh, bringing a hand to his eyes. He knew what the truth was, and it sounded selfish to say. He wanted Marian for himself. Not only was he losing the woman he loved, but he was losing her to one of his greatest enemies. Perhaps his need to save her was driven more by the infuriating need to always win. To not let his enemies gain the upper hand. Gisborne would use this instance to always mock him, to make him weak, to distract him. That was how the man would win….even now, when he was alone, Robin's thoughts were consumed by the other. Was this how it was to always be?

There was another sigh as he quickly wiped his eyes, the faintest trace of moisture there. He was no longer alone, and he would not give the satisfaction to anyone of seeing his weakness. It had been the glow of the torch that had given the other away, his steps slow but precise. Robin said nothing as Much sat near him, driving the stick into the ground so that he would not have to hold it.

"I figured you'd be here," the other started, "you…uh… planning to stay here all night?"

Robin pulled the blankets around his frame a bit tighter, only giving off a nod. The night air was refreshing, and the solitude gave him time to think, something that he needed to do despite how dreary his thoughts were. Much had interrupted them for the time being, something he was grateful for. But now thoughts of Marian were pushed away as he remembered even a greater misdeed he had done. He pressed a hand to his head, trying to banish the thoughts without much success.

"Are you well?" Much asked him quickly. "Do you want me to fetch Djaq? She would come, she would."

"No," Robin shook his head. "Let her sleep."

She had already checked on him more than once that night when they had returned to camp. Robin had let her do so without much protest. Even her skilled hands could not do much for the pain other than offering another draught of one of her concoctions. Robin had refused; his head was already muddled enough, and he was afraid of what he might betray when given no control over his actions.

"Djaq said…"

"I know," Robin cut him off sharply, taking a breath to calm himself. Much was only trying to help. "I know what Djaq said," he spoke again, his voice softer this time. "It is not my head that troubles me; it is my mind."

The other nodded thoughtfully, pursing his lips as he spoke once again. "She said…before you remembered…that you might not remember at all…the others…they said, that if you didn't…that we would have to…"

Robin nodded with a small smile, understanding what the other was trying to say. "And you would have had to."

"Master, surely!"

"Surely, Much," Robin responded back with a laugh. "If it meant keeping the rest of you safe, then yes."

"But you're Robin Hood!"

"As are you and the others; I am only one person, Much. We work together, and if one person threatens the group…then that person needs to be taken care of. It does not matter who that person is."

"But…"

Robin was shaking his head. "I know that they are hard thoughts…but they are thoughts you must consider."

He grew silent then, the thoughts consuming his mind. After a moment he gave a breath, turning to look at the man once more. "I am sorry."

It was Much's turn to frown as he turned to look at him. "Sorry? For what?"

He could not help but laugh. At the same time he wanted to cry. It had meant to be a silent apology; he had hoped Much would know what he was referring to. Even now in his mind the memory threatened to choke him; the knowledge of what he had almost done was overwhelming.

"You know," he pressed, but without any luck. Much still sat where he was, confusion crossing his face. With a sigh Robin shifted where he sat, moving to lean further against a tree.

"There are some things I do not remember, I will admit that. Then there are other things that I wish I could forget. One of them being what happened between us…of what I almost did…"

"Oh," the other man's expression fell, but for only a moment. It brightened up in the next moment and he gave a shrug. "You didn't mean it."

"But I did; that's the point!" Robin pointed out, growing agitated with him. Anyone else would be angry, mistrusting. Much acted as though it was something small and simple, as if Robin had only forgotten to wish him a good morning.

"That is not the point," Much shook his head. "The point is that you could not remember. You cannot mean to do something when you cannot remember."

"Why are you so forgiving?" Robin wondered. He had wondered it for some time now. Much had given him forgiveness even before Robin had asked for it. It seemed as though he could do no wrong in the eyes of the other, and that could be a dangerous trait.

"A smaller man would be upset. A smaller man might even be angry…"

"You are no small man."

"And you are no killer," Much answered simply. "You came back for us…you got the silver, Marian's safe. Overall I'd say it's been a good day."

"Yeah," Robin nodded, but said nothing else. The mentioning of Marian ate away at him once more. How could he share something like that with the others? They would not understand, had not even understood when she was to wed Gisborne the first time. They had even encouraged him to let her go. They would do the same now, he knew that much to be true. But that wasn't what bothered him the most; what bothered him the most was that he knew the others were right. It was time to let her go.

"I did not know camp had moved."

Robin let out a sigh, turning as Djaq joined the pair. The Saracen stood with her hands on her hips, a frown on her face. "I wake up, you two are gone, no one knows where you are."

"I can take care of myself."

"We've all seen how well that's worked out," Much argued.

Robin smiled despite the insult. "I am well. The two of you head back to camp. I will not be far behind."

"Not being funny, but you've said that more than once."

He couldn't help but groan. Was the entire camp bound and determined to follow him like lost puppies? A quick glance over his shoulder confirmed that suspicion, both John and Will following a sleepy-eyed Allan. "What are you all doing here?"

"Djaq woke us," Will answered, fighting off a yawn as he moved to sit down next to him.

"Of course she did," Robin shook his head, turning to the woman. She said nothing, only returning his glance with a shrug of her own. He fought off a coming sigh, looking back at the others, knowing that he would not be there without them.

"Thank you, all of you. I owe all of you my life."

"Call it even," Will grumbled quietly as he yawned once more. He placed his head in his hands, running his fingers through his hair. "Can we talk about this in the morning?"

Robin smiled, but nodded. A rest would do all of them good, and even if he could not sleep he could pretend to do so for the others. It would take time to heal his own wounds. Not all where physical; most ran deeper than the surface of his skin. But time would heal them. His love for Marian would not change, and though she was marrying Gisborne, there was still a shred of hope. For when the King returned, Gisborne's treachery would be known. He would be sentenced, and then Marian would be free. They themselves would never be able to marry, but it would not stop his love for her. Not even death would do that.

Resigning himself with a sigh, he stood, wrapping the blankets about his shoulders as he stretched his weary legs. The others were watching him, waiting for him to make the call despite the fact that they were all more than capable. Their trust in him was still solid despite the recent events. It only went to show just how close they were. There were more than just a group of outlaws in the forest. They were a family.

"Come on then, lads. Let's go home."

**The End**

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**Coming up Next**

**It's Not Easy**

_When Much disappears, Robin takes it upon himself to find out what has happened. Things become even more complicated when he learns of the true nature of his friend's fate. Meanwhile, Marian faces the hangman's noose when her dealings with the outlaws is discovered, forcing Guy to turn to desperate measures to see to her safety. _


End file.
